


The Brat Pack

by ladyschrei



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Graduation, High School, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 26,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyschrei/pseuds/ladyschrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday detention was only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Mr. Vernon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [10/17/14] I'm really sorry for the delay in updates! I'm making this my NaNoWriMo story, so I've been trying to get everything ready for next month. I thank you for your patience, and hope to have new chapters up soon :)

Monday morning, March 26, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

The halls, for the most part, are empty. Locks dangle from red lockers, untouched. Around back, cars continue to pull into the staff parking lot. Mrs. Burner, Senior English teacher, has her door cracked open slightly; the faint tapping of her keyboard drifts into the silent hall, along with music from her record player.

The attitude in the library is completely different. A startling kind of silence. Richard Vernon, principal, stands with his hands on his hips. Mrs. TeAll, librarian, quickly slams the door to her small office. Behind the sign-out desk lay many items, some missing, with destroyed books scattered on the floor.

"Damn kids," Vernon huffs.

In the hall, Carl the janitor wheels around a trash bin and mop, whistling quietly. He pauses as he notices an unlocked and open locker. He quickly peers around the empty hall before rifling through it. Nothing of much interest. A math test with a failing grade. Pencils strewn on the bottom. He grins in triumph as he finds an unopened pack of gum. Taking a piece, he stuffs the rest in his pocket, slamming the locker shut.

The bang echoes through the dead halls.


	2. If You Gotta Go

"Shut the FUCK UP!"

A crash. John Bender sits up in bed, sweating. Sun is streaming through the dirty window, cold spring air blowing in and chilling the tiny room. The window doesn't close all the way, and hasn't since Mr. Bender bought the house years ago.

"You don't talk to me like that!" A woman shouting from the kitchen. Another crash.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?!" a man screams.

Bender shivers a bit, licking his dry lips. It's quiet at first, and then comes the soft sobs from his mother. She's whispering to her husband now, but Bender can't hear it. And to be quite frank, he doesn't want to. He doesn't fucking care.

He reaches for the floor and picks up the nice watch he hopes the man from the jewelry store doesn't miss, its surrounding diamonds gleaming. 6:56 AM. He's late. Again. Too fucking bad.

He drops the watch to the floor, grabbing the ratty blankets and pulling them up over his head, falling back asleep.


	3. Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie

5:14 AM. Brian Johnson's alarm blares. He sits up and throws off the covers, stumbling around on the floor. He shuts off the clock and picks out carefully folded clothes, laying them on his bed.

At 5:40 AM Brian steps from the shower, using his hand to wipe away the steam from his mirror. He brushes his teeth, licking his lips after and nodding his head.

Brian goes back into his room, towel wrapped around his waist. He goes to the window, looking down at the street. One car pulls from its driveway. He shuts the curtain, his towel falling down after he does so.

First is his underwear, his name stitched on the label inside. Then his socks, white. His khakis, almost identical to _all the other ones_ in his closet. These ones are faded because of how much he wears them. His lucky pair. Brian slips his undershirt and sweater over his head, putting on his black watch and going into the bathroom, staring at himself as he straightens his shirt.

"Smart men dress sharp," he reminds himself, like he does everyday.

Back in his room, Brian sits on his bed and carefully pulls on his loafers.

At 6 AM he is downstairs. His father is at the table reading the newspaper, his sister, Jenny, in the front room watching TV, and his mom in the kitchen cooking breakfast. A plate of bacon and some pancakes are slid underneath him at the table. His mother kisses his cheek before he begins to eat, going to round up his sister.

At 6:12 AM Mr. Johnson leaves, kissing Mrs. Johnson before he goes and playfully ruffles Jenny's hair. Brian nods to his father as he leaves.

At 6:25 AM Mrs. Johnson locks the front door and at 6:27 AM she climbs into the front seat of the red car, Brian in the passenger's side and Jenny squished between them, like she always is.

At 6:48 AM Mrs. Johnson pulls up out front of Shermer High. Kids linger on the steps and in the parking lot. Brian hears music and loud chatter. He kisses Jenny's cheek, and she wipes it off as he steps from the car.

"Have a good day!" Mrs. Johnson calls as she drives off.

Behind him, Brian can hear kids snicker.


	4. Sporto

Andrew Clark's white sneakers pound into the pavement. Sweat rings the neckline of his green undershirt. He takes sharp, deep breaths as he continues to run. Off Green onto Delaney. Off Delaney onto Maple. Off Maple onto Newfield.

"You can do it," he says to himself between breaths. "Breathe."

But he can feel himself slowing down. He folds his hands on top of his head as he hops onto the sidewalk from the road. He's only ran half the amount he normally does. Dammit.

His legs are feeling sore. This happens when he pushes himself too hard. And this morning he's definitely pushed it.

Halfway down the block he stops, putting his hands on his knees and shutting his eyes. If his old man was here running with him, he'd be hounding Andy for sure. Thank God Andy left a couple minutes earlier than usual while his dad was in the shower.

Andy stands up fast, looking around. "What the hell?" he mutters to himself.

He feels it. Someone's watching him. Andy knows that feeling from wrestling, when scouts are keeping an eye on him.

Then he sees it. Across the street. Two story white house. Fence surrounding the lawn. Small trees and bushes growing together, forming a barrier between the front and back lawns.

That isn't exactly what's caught his eye though. It's actually the figure in the window upstairs.

Andy gives a small grin, looking around the street before giving a small motion, a _come outside_ wave.

The figure bites its lip, shaking its head. Andy gives a shrug and a small wave, continuing to jog down the sidewalk.

He never saw Allison wave back.


	5. Princess

Mr. and Mrs. Standish are both in the kitchen talking in hushed voices when Claire Standish comes in, a smile across her face.

"Good morning, Daddy!" she says sweetly, kissing his cheek. "Morning, Mom!" Claire kisses her cheek.

Mrs. Standish puts her hand where the kiss lingers, smiling. Her father crosses his arms.

"Claire," he begins, "your mother and I want to talk to you-"

"And I want to talk to you, too!" Claire says with another smile.

Her father sighs. "Go ahead."

Claire plays with her fingers as she talks. "I know you said I'm grounded and everything, but I was wondering if I could pretty please have my car back?" She bats her eyelashes.

Her mother sips her coffee, staring at her father. He looks down at her.

"Eleanor, what do you think?"

"I think you should go get her car keys."

Claire grins. "Really? Oh, thank you!" She jumps a little, clapping her hands. "Thank you!"

Her father has a small frown on as he leaves the room.

"So," her mother leans across the island, "tell me about him."

Claire stares. Huh? "About who?"

"That boy. Was he a good kisser?"

Boy? OH. "Mom-"

"Claire!" her mother practically begs. "You can tell me. We never talk anymore! And I don't think you want to have this conversation with your father,” her mother says with a wink. "What's his name? What's he like? Are you dating?"

Claire takes a deep breath. "His name is John, he's a criminal, and no, we are not, and will never be, dating."

Claire's mother stares at her, then busts out laughing as her father comes back into the room. She beats her fist against the counter.

"Eleanor," her father says worriedly.

"Oh! Oh Claire!" her mother gasps, "you really are so funny when you choose to be." She pats her hand.

Her father holds her keys out. Claire snatches them quickly, kissing his cheek.

"I have to go, or else I'll be late. Bye!"

Claire quickly slams the door behind her, hurrying across the porch. Her mother sticks her head out of the door.

"Did you want to put some clothes on first?" she calls after Claire.

Claire stops and looks down at herself, blushing furiously as she realizes she's still in her pajamas. She runs back inside, her mother laughing hysterically after her.

* * *

Claire taps her steering wheel as she stops behind other cars, her head buzzing. _Of course. Of course._ Her father _would_ tell her mother about seeing her kiss Bender. He had already questioned her on the way home Saturday afternoon, couldn't he just forget it?

Then again, easier said than done. Claire can't stop remembering either. Someone beeps at her. She snaps back from her daze and pulls ahead quickly, nearly ramming the car in front of her. She slams on the brakes.

"Shit!" she cries, panting. A bunch of kids on the school steps turn to stare at her, laughing and pointing and whispering.

Two girls step in front of her car, crossing over onto the sidewalk from the parking lot.

"Just because your daddy has money doesn't mean you should be able to drive," one of them snorts at her.

"And just because your daddy is poor doesn't mean you have to dress in such bad taste!" Claire calls back, both girls stopping to glare at her. "Yeah, I'm talking to you, Ugly Sweater Girl," Claire snaps at the one that had spoken out of tone to her. Claire pulls away.

Behind her, she hears boys yell "Ugly Sweater Girl!" as the two brunettes hurry away.

Claire finds a parking spot and switches off her car, pulling down a mirror and applying some more lipstick. More cars pull in around her. She notices a blue one in the opposite row, the driver stepping out. It's Andy.

Claire shrinks down in her seat, not fully knowing why, as he passes. She slaps her steering wheel. He'll _know_ this is her car.

"What the hell am I doing?" she asks herself, throwing things into her purse and pulling the keys from the ignition, pushing shut the door behind her.

The heels of her new pink shoes click against the pavement as she pushes black sunglasses up her nose, smiling to herself. Skipping school for shopping hadn't been _all_ bad.

She moves by a group of kids pushing each other.

"Come on!" One boy checks his watch. Claire notices him and stops. It's Curtis Malfis. He's leaning against the railing.

"What's up?" Johnny Ore asks from his position on the stairs, looking up at Curtis.

"Bender's late again. That dumbass."

"Bender?" Claire says without realizing.

"What?" Curtis asks, looking over at her.

Johnny leans around Curtis. "You got a problem, Cherry?" he asks her. Some kids around them snort.

"No," she says, hiking her brown purse up on her shoulder and hurrying on. "No."


	6. An Island With Herself

They sit in silence. Mrs. Reynolds looks a mess. Her hair, unbrushed, sits in a bun on her head. Black rings circle her eyes. She has lipstick on her teeth. She hasn't changed her clothes in two days. A cigarette hangs between her lips.

Next to her, Allison Reynolds stares ahead at the road, watching the other cars pass by and wishing she was with one of those families instead. She swallows a lump in her throat.

"I met a boy," she says quietly, turning to glance at her mom. Mrs. Reynolds pays no mind.

Three more minutes of silence. "Did you?" her mother croaks.

Allison nods, even though her mother doesn't see. Even though her mother doesn't care, tapping ash from the cigarette out the crack in the window.

"He's athletic. On the wrestling team. And he understands me. And he seems to care. He's got a nice smile, and a nice laugh. And perfect blond hair, and beautiful eyes that smile when he does."

Her mother still says nothing. The wind blows, sending bits of ash onto Allison's long skirt. Her mother pulls in front of the sidewalk, putting the car into park and inhaling deeply.

Allison brushes the ash to the floor as she swings the door open, throwing her bag over her shoulder and slamming the door. She looks into the car. Her mother pulls away.

Allison starts down the sidewalk, reaching her hand into her black bag and feeling the smooth fabric of the patch she pulled from Andy's jacket on Saturday. She talks to herself as she walks.

"I'm gonna marry him one day," she whispers, "and we'll never, ever, end up like you and Dad."


	7. Brownie Hound

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

"Dammit!" Vernon yells from his computer, quickly closing out his game – uh, important educational folders that require much use of the spacebar – and goes out into the main office.

"Where the _hell_  are all the secretaries?" Vernon shouts to the empty office, looking around.

_Buzz._

He stands on his toes to peer through the window, his face going dark as he spots the piece of trash standing at the door. He has half a mind not to let the fucker in.

_BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ._

Vernon presses the brown button with a huff and hears the door click, John Bender swinging it open and waltzing up to the front desk.

"Dick!" Bender calls, opening his arms wide. "Where's the lovely Mrs. Orvitz today? She always signs my late passes," he says with a pout.

"Cut the shit, Bender." Vernon looks at the clock, a smile on his lips. "Why, it's already eight-thirty. A bit late today, are we not?"

Bender shrugs one shoulder, stretching out and yawning. Vernon slaps a yellow pass on the desk, scribbling in Bender's name and time in black ink.

"Don't forget," he tells Bender, holding the pass out between two fingers, "detention Saturday."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Dick," Bender says, snatching up the pass and heading into the hall.

Vernon stares after him, muttering "prick" under his breath as he walks around the office, finally coming to the intercom. He presses it, turning it on and leaning towards it.

"Andrew Clark and Brian Johnson, please report to Mr. Vernon's office immediately."

He switches the intercom off, going back into his office and slamming the door.


	8. Monkey Business

_"Andrew Clark and Brian Johnson, please report to Mr. Vernon's office immediately."_

The intercom clicks off. Brian's entire Trigonometry class goes silent, some kids peering at him from the corners of their eyes. Brian sinks down in his seat as he shoves his things into his bag, his calculator smashing to the floor.

"Shit," he mumbles as he bends to retrieve it.

"Brian," Mr. Doms, the instructor, says sternly, "please do hurry. You're distracting the class. Go on now."

"Yes, sir." Brian stands, heading for the door.

"And you _will_  return after school to collect any missed information and homework."

It wasn't a question, but Brian responds "yes, sir," anyway.

* * *

Brian's mind races as he hurries down the hall, short of breath. What was going on? He grins. Maybe he's getting an award. He licks his lips, nodding his head. Finally, this hellhole will recognize true talent!

But then he stops. Shit! What if he's in trouble again? His palms start to sweat. In the classroom next to him, he can hear tenth graders shouting out answers in Spanish. He groans, continuing on.

He reminds himself to walk. To breathe. To remember to turn left at the corner.

He accomplishes two of those three things.

The last one ... not so much.


	9. It's Wrong To Destroy Literature

_Andrew Clark and Brian Johnson, please report to Mr. Vernon's office immediately."_

The senior English class is dark. The projector is drawn down, Mrs. Burner giving in-depth notes on William Shakespeare.

Andy isn't paying attention, though. He hasn't been all period.

Instead, he's been staring ahead, at the desk three rows in front of his, one to the right.

His chin is resting in his palm as he watches her. He likes the way her short, dark hair moves when she leans her head down to write more notes. The way it plays on her shoulders.

"-Andy. Andrew? Mr. Clark!"

Andy jolts forward, looking ahead. Mrs. Burner is frowning at him.

"Go on, dear."

"Huh?"

"To the office. Did you not just hear that?"

Andy shakes his head, trying to clear away his daze. "Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry."

He bumps his knee into his desk as he picks up his notebook and binder, shoving them under his arm and making his way towards the door.

In the brightness of the hall he blinks, turning and quickly glancing in the classroom one last time.

Ally smiles at him as he shuts the door.

* * *

Andy takes his time walking through the halls, stopping to stretch every now and then. He isn't in some hurry to visit Vernon, especially not after their time spent together on Saturday.

He hums to himself as he goes, fingering some of the locks clamped on the locker doors.

He's going straight when someone rams into him suddenly from the side, both of them dropping to the floor.

"Hey!" Andy growls, watching as his things splay across the floor.

"Oh. Oh God. I'm so sorry. I-" Brian looks over. "Oh. Oh, hey Andy."

"Hey yourself." Andy stands up, brushing dirt from his jeans.

Brian runs a hand through his hair, pulling his bag to his chest. Andy sticks out a hand. Brian hesitates, then takes it, being hauled quickly to his feet. He nervously watches Andy collect his things from the floor. Andy stops and stares at Brian for a second before moving along in the hall.

Brian jogs up behind him. "So, uh, what … what d'you think this is all about? Are we in trouble again or something?"

Andy looks back at Brian and shrugs. "I don't know." He huffs out a breath. "I sure hope not."

"Yeah, same. Same."

Brian almost walks into Andy again as they stop outside Vernon's door. Andy gives him a strange look before hitting the wood with his fist a couple times.

The door swings in, Vernon standing on the other side. He snarls a bit, hands on his hips. Brian steps nervously from foot to foot. Andy swallows the lump in his throat, staring up at Vernon. All three are silent for some time.

Vernon finally points across the hall to the library. Andy and Brian both follow his finger. "In there. Go."

Brian quickly walks through the doors. Andy turns back to look at Vernon for a minute.

"Go on, go!" Vernon says, storming along behind him.  
  
In the library, Vernon puts his hands back on his hips. "Set your things down."

Both find a table and do as they're told. Vernon points to the librarian's desk. "Behind there is a mess." He points off to the right. "Books. Over there. _Destroyed_."

He points to another table. Brian and Andy follow his finger again. A black trash bag is laying across the top of the wooden desk. "Clean it all up. It better be _exactly_  the way you found it on Saturday. Ruined books and such are put in the bag. Any mistakes, and you'll both find yourselves in detention until you graduate. Understand?"

And with that, Vernon storms off.

In her office, Mrs. TeAll stands with her arms crossed over her chest.


	10. Don't You Want Any Respect?

At 8:37, Mr. Jupiter is going over instructions for tomorrow's lab when the door bangs open. Claire looks up, watching as Bender walks in.

"Ah, Bender," Mr. Jupiter says, glancing up from the chalkboard. "How nice of you to join us. Please, take a seat and start copying notes from your lab partner."

Bender smirks at Claire as he walks by her table, heading for the back. Beside her, Ella, Claire's best friend, gasps.

"Such _filth_ ," Ella mutters, turning to watch Bender sit next to Curtis. Behind him, Stacey, one of Bender's girls, leans forward over her table and throws her arms around him, massaging his shoulders. Ella turns back.

"How _was_  detention with him, anyway?" she whispers to Claire, picking her pen back up and scribbling in more notes.

Claire shrugs. "It was so… _practical_  of him, if you know what I mean."

Ella nods vigorously, as if she completely understands. Which, no, she doesn't.

"Now then," Mr. Jupiter calls from the front, finishing writing an equation on the board. "Who would like to come up and give this a shot? Anybody?"

"I would!" a faked, girlish voice calls from the back. Kids start to snicker.

Mr. Jupiter turns around, searching for the voice. "Who was that? Claire?"

"What?" Claire nearly jumps in her seat. "No, sir, that wasn't me."

"Oh, come on! Don't be shy! I know you can do it!" He motions for her to come up to the board. More snickering.

"Okay, I guess."

Claire stands up, smoothing down her skirt. Cat calls start up in the room.

"Now, now, fellas. Let's have some respect," Mr. Jupiter warns.

Claire takes the chalk from him and stares at the writing in front of her. What the hell does any of this mean? The numbers and letters start to swirl together in front of her.

"Well?" Mr. Jupiter asks. "Go on, take a crack at it. What do you think?"

"I, uh," Claire starts, trying to look at the writing above for something helpful. What was wrong with her? Mr. Jupiter tilts his head at her.

"Anything?"

Claire can feel herself sweating as she stares where the answer should go. "Uh."

"Mr. Jupiter!"

Everyone turns to look. A black manicured hand shoots into the air. Stacey.

"I'll try it. I think I have the answer."

Mr. Jupiter nods, motioning for Stacey to come forward. When she gets to the front, Claire reluctantly hands her the chalk, head hanging low as she heads back to her seat. Ella pats her back reassuringly as Stacey starts to write on the board.

Stacey smiles as she drops the chalk back into its holder. Mr. Jupiter rubs his chin and nods at her results.

"Wonderful, Stacey! Well done!"

Some kids off to the left start clapping. Stacey smiles again and heads back to her seat, pausing at Claire's table. She leans down.

"Money won't get you out of this class, sweetheart," she whispers.

"Yeah, but it sure will get you out of those clothes, hooker."

Stacey gasps as she jumps up, offended.

"Claire!" Mr. Jupiter yells. "That's enough out of you. Apologize to Stacey, or go to the principal's office."

Claire smiles sweetly at Stacey.

"Sorry, Stace. I was just kidding around. Like you!"

"It's _Stacey_  to you. And no, you were not," Stacey huffs, her tall black boots click-clacking the floor as she storms off back to her seat.

More snickering.


	11. Multi-Talented

Allison skips lunch, stuffing a few chips in her mouth as she wanders the empty halls. She can hear shouting coming from the classrooms around her. She stops at one. It's silent inside. She puts a few more chips in her mouth and drops the remaining into her bag, brushing her hands together before knocking on the door.

Mrs. Geller opens the door and smiles down at Allison. "Hello, dear," she says, putting her glasses on and examining Allison. "Why, is it final period already? My old age, I'm losing track of time!"

"Uh, no, actually, it's lunch right now."

"Oh." Mrs. Geller frowns. "Then what can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if I could work on my clay piece?"

Mrs. Geller smiles, holding the door wide open for Allison. "Well, I don't see why not. As long as you're out of here on time when the bell rings."

Allison nods, coming inside and closing her eyes. She breathes in the smell of paint. She hears the door click behind her. Mrs. Geller smiles as she goes back to her desk, sitting down and turning up the radio. Soft music fills the room.

Allison pulls her bag over her head and sets it down on a table, going over and picking up her clay piece and a sculpting knife.

"Make sure to be careful with that, dear," Mrs. Geller says sternly, looking over at Allison.

Allison nods. "I will."

Mrs. Geller smiles again, replacing her glasses as she picks up a thick book and flips through it.

Allison sets her clay down and studies it, picking up the knife and carving patterns all over. She smiles as she works, humming along to the music.

She's in a trance when the bell rings, the halls filling with loud voices. As kids start coming into the room, Allison puts her piece back and replaces the knife in its proper place. She grins as she leaves, heading off for Chemistry. Her piece reflects in her brain as she walks, turning over every detail in her mind.

She knows he's going to love it.


	12. I've Seen You Before, You Know...

Bender hates this class. Out of all the fucking things he has to take this year, he undoubtedly hates this class. He stares down a table of girls in the back, laughing and chatting away.

"Alright, everyone!" Mrs. Geller calls, clapping her hands. She picks up the glasses hanging around her neck, setting them on her nose. "I'm going to take attendance so please, quietly and in an orderly fashion, get your clay pieces and put them on your desk, and wait until I'm finished."

She smiles at the class. Bender mimics her, crossing his arms and slouching down in his seat. Fuck that. At his table, Johnny Ore and Craig Delflo laugh, high fiving.

When the crowd around the clay finally lessens, Bender gets up and grabs his shit, staring down at the tiny pieces in his hand.

With Mrs. Geller's suggestion, he had made two friendship necklaces for Kelly Pinca, the fat girl in the back.

The assignment was that everyone would get a slip of paper with someone's name, and they had to make a clay piece for that person.

So of course, he got the fat girl. Originally, Bender was going to make Kelly a piece of lettuce, but Mrs. Geller looked like she was going to shoot him when he told her his idea.

Instead, she suggested he make the charms, and she would get chains for him to put them on.

The charms are two slices of pizza. She's fat. He couldn't help himself with shit like this.

Mrs. Geller waits until everyone is sitting and quiet. She clasps her hands together. "Okay, everyone. It's time to trade gifts. Go ahead!"

The class scrambles as they give pieces away. Bender walks over to Kelly's table and sets the charms down quickly. When he gets back to his table, he stops and stares at what's in front of his seat.

He sits down and picks the round piece up, turning it in his hands. It's gray, with many intricate designs on the inside. He studies it, a smile creeping over his lips.

"No shit," he says, turning it around again. "Johnny, Craig, who left this?"

Craig laughs as he motions with his head. Bender turns in his seat, looking at a table in the corner. There, a girl draws quickly in her notebook. What the fuck? Allison? How long had she been in this class?

Bender turns around, staring down at the ashtray in his hands.

"I think she has a crush on you," Johnny says with a grin, Craig cackling beside him.

"Poor girl," Craig says as he wipes a tear from his eye. "Probably special ed or somethin'."

Bender remembers back to detention. When he had first seen Allison. _This_  is where he knew her from.

He swears under his breath.


	13. Who Do I Think I Am?

Late Tuesday morning, March 27, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

The lunchroom is divided. It has been since freshman year. The popular kids sit on the left, near the door and lunch lines; it makes it easier for them to get first dibs on the best food. The nerds sit in the middle; this makes it easier for the popular kids to find someone to do their homework. The tables on the right are where the "normal" kids sit; no one bothers them there. The burnouts sit in the far back.

Brian sighs as he stares down at his tray. This morning, his sister Jenny had decided she didn't want to brush her teeth, hoping to stay home from school to avoid a science test. As a result, Brian's mother hadn't packed his lunch, and now he's stuck eating corn dogs and a scoop of watery looking corn. Brian frowns as he thinks about Jenny. She's never acted like that before. Something must be going on...

"...did you hear me, kid? I said next!"

"Hey!"

Brian snaps from his thoughts, looking around. Behind him, an angry line of kids stand with their trays, glaring at him.

"Next, please!"

Brian looks forward, realizing it's his turn to pay. "Oh," he says, blushing as he hurries to the cash register. "Oh, sorry."

He digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, grabbing a few bills and shoving them into the cashier's hands. She eyes him oddly as he hurries away, not bothering to stay and get his change.

Brian looks around at the tables, slumping his shoulders. His friends are MIA, probably in the library playing games on the computers. This happens at least once a week.

As he spots an empty table and starts for it, he hears loud laughter coming from the back. Turning, he spots Bender and his friends, throwing around paper airplanes at their table. Brian smiles, a thought creeping into his brain.

He starts for the back, pushing through a group of Drama Club kids. A few of them snap – literally _snap_  their fingers – at him as he goes.

"Hiya, fellas," Brian says cheerfully as he sets his tray down at Bender's table, pulling out one of the chairs and lowering himself down. He can feel eyes from all over the cafeteria staring at him.

Bender looks like he's about to have a heart attack from where he's sitting. Curtis lowers his milk carton, milk dripping from the straw. Johnny's head is in constant motion, glancing at everyone sitting at the table. Craig flings peas at Brian's head.

"Uh, what the fuck, dweeb. Are you lost?" Bender asks in horror.

Curtis drums his fingers on the table as Brian shrugs, shoving a spoonful of corn into his mouth. He flinches as another pea hits directly on his eyebrow.

"Just wanted someone to sit with, that's all."

Craig laughs, loading his spoon again. "Where's the Nerd Herd at, huh, buddy?"

He launches his spoon forward. Brian moves his head to the left, watching as peas soar by. One hits Curtis on the ear and he snarls. Craig drops his spoon and pushes his tray forward a little.

"The Nerd Herd? Hey, I kinda like that, yeah." Brian nods his head, looking around.

Bender cracks a smile. Curtis, however, is clearly not amused. He lowers his head, whispering so only Brian can hear.

"I'm gonna give you 'til the count of ten to get the hell away from this table, else I'm gonna beat the living shit outta you."

"Oh, come on, Curtis, buddy!" Brian pats Curtis's shoulder.

Bender, next to Curtis, widens his eyes and shakes his head, mouthing _no, no, no_  quickly.

"That's it!" Curtis roars, standing up. A few kids look over at their table. "Boys, I need to take a bathroom break."

Johnny grins widely, standing too. Craig joins them. Bender swallows, standing up slowly.

"Okay, well, see you then." Brian is about to bite his corn dog when he feels a strong hand on his shoulder, fingers digging into his sweater.

"You," Curtis says with narrow eyes and a venomous smile, "are coming with us."

* * *

The hallways are empty. Craig and Johnny stand guard at the door as Curtis shoves Brian inside. He tumbles forward and grips a sink for support.

"Take care of him," Curtis growls to someone in the hall.

Next thing Brian knows, he's face-to-face with a furious Bender. Brian starts to back up toward the wall on the far side, Bender taking slow steps toward him, turning on every sink as he goes and checking underneath the stalls. They're alone. The room is filled with the sound of rushing water. Brian squeezes his legs together. He hadn't had to pee five seconds ago. He holds a hand out as he hits the orange brick wall.

"Bender, please," he starts.

"What. The. FUCK!" Bender hisses, three inches from Brian now. "What the fuck, Brian! What were you thinking! I should beat the shit outta you."

Brian swallows, turning his head away from Bender, before he starts to blink and look back. "You – you mean you're not gonna hit me?"

"Fuck, no, I, ugh." Bender runs a hand through his hair, cursing to himself. "You're lucky Curtis sent me in and not someone else, or even came in himself, because you'd be bleeding on the floor right now if he had."

"I, I understand."

"Really?" Bender shoots him a pointed look. "Really? Because I don't fucking think you do. What was that? Do you _have_  a death wish?"

"No, I just thought-"

"Well don't," Bender snarls, pointing a finger at Brian. "Don't _ever_  pull a stunt like that again, or so help me I'll hit you next time. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

" _Good_." Bender runs another hand through his hair. It almost looks like he's shaking. Then again, that might just be Brian.

"Wait a few minutes before leaving, you hear? And don't mention this to anyone, or I'll kill you."

Bender hurries back to the door, only opening it enough for himself to slip through. Brian rushes and locks himself in a stall, breathing heavily. He hears the door creak open for a second before shutting again. He's left alone with the running faucets after that.


	14. Parents Are In Europe

Wednesday morning, March 28, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

**7:03 AM.** Andrew Clark shuffles into Homeroom behind a group of other students, taking a seat on the far right, about halfway down the row. He stares out the window, watching the still-rising sun. His legs burn from his morning run.

**7:05 AM.** The late bell rings.

**7:07 AM.** Mrs. Knocker takes attendance.

**7:09 AM.** Mrs. Knocker goes back behind her computer. Everyone is left to their own free will now. Andy hates Homeroom. There's never anything to do.

**7:10 AM.** A group of kids noisily jam their desks together and start a game of cards. Everyone starts to talk louder now. Andy huffs and goes back to staring out the window.

**7:12 AM.** The class is hushed by Mrs. Knocker as the morning announcements start on the intercom. The secretary keeps coughing every few minutes. Vernon can be heard faintly shouting in the back. Asshole.

**7:15 AM.** The noise level is back to where it was before the announcements. Andy puts his chin in his palm and drums his fingers against the desk.

**7:18 AM.** As a last resort, Andy fishes his French homework from his bag and slaps it on the desk in front of him. He cracks his fingers and stares down at it.

**7:19 AM.** What the hell does any of this say anyway? It's not like he plans on going to France or anything.

**7:21 AM.** Andy dozes off at his desk.

**7:25 AM.** A hand slaps Andy's shoulder. He jumps in his seat and looks around. It's Stubbie Brown.

Stubbie laughs and points at Andy. Wide-eyed, Andy realizes there's drool pooling down his chin. He uses his sleeve to wipe it away, turning away from Stubbie.

**7:26 AM.** "Relax man," Stubbie laughs as Andy turns back to him. "What's up man? You alright?"

"Yeah, just tired I guess," Andy mumbles, realizing there's a wet stain on his French homework. Awesome.

"Hey, listen, I got something that'll liven you up," Stubbie says with a wink. Andy raises his eyebrows. "My parents are stuck in Europe."

Andy rubs his hands over his face, pulling away and blinking at Stubbie. He frowns. "Still? Hasn't it been like, a week?"

**7:27 AM.** "Yeah, isn't it great? There's some giant storms going on over there, their flights keep getting canceled."

"So why is this good news exactly?"

Stubbie raises his eyebrows. "Seriously? You have to ask?"

They both crack wide grins at each other.

"Party at my house Saturday night. Eight o'clock."

**7:28 AM.** "I'll be there."

"Alright!"

They both crack grins again as Stubbie gets up and crosses the room to the kids playing cards. He leans over one of their shoulders and starts laughing with the guy.

**7:29 AM.** Three rows back, Curtis Malfis grins.

**7:30 AM.** The bell rings. End of Homeroom.


	15. I Like Those Earrings, Claire

Thursday evening, March 29, 1984. The Standish Household, Shermer, Illinois.

Claire dumps her purse on a chair in the kitchen and throws her keys across the table. "I'm home!" she calls.

The house is lit up, music drifting in from another room. Claire follows the sound, but finds no one.

"Mom?" she calls.

"Upstairs!"

Claire takes the winding stairs, humming along with the music. She freezes in the hall when she sees her bedroom door is open and the light is on. Mrs. Standish pops her head around the door frame, smiling. As Claire gets closer, she can smell the alcohol coming off her mother.

"Mom?"

Claire's jewelry box is open on her bed, jewelry scattered everywhere. "I'm looking for those pretty earrings of yours, Claire. Your father and I are going dancing. Whoopsies," Mrs. Standish giggles as she tips over, knocking into the wall.

Claire runs over to help her mother. "Mom, you're drunk."

Mrs. Standish waves a dismissive hand, fixing the wrinkles in her dress. "Nonsense, I've only had a little bit. Honest." She burps, hiding her mouth behind a manicured hand and giggling again. "Now then," she turns to the bed, "where _are_  those earrings?"

Claire frowns. "Which ones, Mom?"

"You know, those expensive little studs your grandmother got you. Oh look, there's one!"

Mrs. Standish leans over the bed, fishing from the pile a small stud Claire hadn't even seen. The same stud she'll never see the matching one of, because it's with-

"Bender," Claire whispers, tugging on one of her ears instinctively.

Her mother looks over at her and frowns deeply. "What was that, Claire?"

"Uh, no, nothing. I, uh-"

"Ladies?"

Claire whirls around to find her father standing in the doorway, fixing his tie.

"Everything alright in here?"

"I'm not sure," Mrs. Standish says. Mr. Standish raises his eyebrows. "Claire, where _is_  the matching stud?"

"It – it should be right there, Mother. Honest."

Claire hurries over to the bed and starts to dig through the pile of jewelry. She can feel sweat gathering on her forehead.

"Why, I don't know where it could have gone to."

"Eleanor?" Mr. Standish says.

Claire looks up. Her mother is holding the stud between her thumb and forefinger as if it's diseased. Her face is a mixture of emotions Claire can't read. Her frown is nearly to the floor. Claire tries to swallow the lump in her throat. Her mother turns and sets the stud on Claire's vanity table, snatching up her clutch and throwing Claire another look.

"Let's go, Randy darling. We're late."

Mrs. Standish storms from the room. Mr. Standish eyes Claire warily.

"Randal!"

"Coming!"

He gives Claire one last look before he hurries off after his wife. Claire drops to the floor, listening to the slamming of the front door and the start of her father's car. She turns and stares at the bottle of Vodka her mother left behind.


	16. Trying Out For A Scholarship

Friday evening, March 30, 1984. The Reynolds Household, Shermer, Illinois.

Allison scratches her head and sets down her pen, staring at the piece of paper covered in doodles. The piece of paper that, mind you, _should_ be filled with up to two hundred words on the person that inspires her the most.

Allison pushes away from her desk and sighs, opening her bedroom door and staring into the dark hall. As she makes her way downstairs, music rushes up to meet her.

She finds her mother cleaning the kitchen, humming along with Johnny Cash. She leans against the door frame, watching.

"Mom?"

Mrs. Reynolds jumps. "Shit, Ally." She presses a sponged hand to her heart. "Don't do that to me." She pulls her hand away, revealing a wet stain soaking through her shirt.

"Sorry," Allison mutters.

Her mother sets the cleaning supplies down and lights a cigarette, flicking ashes into the sink. “Need something?”

Allison shrugs, then takes a deep breath. "Actually, yeah." Her mother raises her eyebrows. "I'm working on an essay. It's for a scholarship." She watches as her mother inhales smoke deeply. "I was wondering... who inspired you the most in high school?"

She watches as her mother winces, coughing up smoke. She forgot. She always forgets – her mother never finished high school.

"Well, uh," she flicks more ash off and takes a shaky breath, bringing the cigarette to her mouth then pulling it away again, stamping it out in the sink and tossing it away in the trashcan.

Allison watches the pain cross her mother's face. She knows high school can be a touchy subject with her mother. Even worse, she knows it's painful that Allison isn't writing about _her_  to begin with.

"I just don't want to do someone general, like a mother or father. Everyone qualifying for this scholarship will, and I want to stand out," Allison lies through her teeth.

Her mother nods and picks up the sponge and spray bottle, wiping the same spot on the kitchen island over and over again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

"Mom-"

"Why not the president, hm? I'm sure a bunch of art losers won't write about the president inspiring them."

Allison flinches, stepping back away from the kitchen a little.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess."

"Listen, I'm really busy, Allison, okay?" her mother snaps, looking up. "I can't have you interrupting me. Go write your damn essay. Your father's coming home late, he's bringing dinner with him because there's no damn food in this house, okay? Okay?!"

"O-okay," Allison whispers and turns, dashing up the stairs.


	17. Big Party At Stubbie's

Saturday night, March 31, 1984. Stubbie's House, Shermer, Illinois.

Bender brings a burned down cigarette to his lips and takes a small puff, throwing it to the pavement and stomping it out. Stacey leans on his left shoulder, grinning. Curtis, Craig, and Johnny are all to his right. They stare up at the large, white house.

Cars are parked haphazardly up and down the street and all over the front lawn and driveway. Bright lights and loud music burst from the house. Drunk kids are stumbling everywhere. Trash liters the yard and surrounding shrubs.

The party has only been going on for an hour.

"I think we're a little late," Craig says with a grin as Johnny pops the collar to his leather jacket. The two head off toward the house.

"Remember boys!" Curtis calls out, following after them. "It's only illegal if you get caught!"

Bender shakes his head with a grin, he and Stacey making their way toward the yard.

The house is packed with richies and jocks, nerds and burnouts alike. Craig, Curtis, and Johnny are already lost in the crowd. Bender kisses Stacey's cheek and heads off, pushing through the drunk, dancing morons.

He checks around and finally finds what he's looking for. The hall he's standing in isn't so crowded, the music just a thumping bass over here. He hears moans floating through one of the walls. Checking left and right, Bender pushes the halfway open door fully in, switching on the light and grinning.

Coats line the racks up and down, begging to be searched. Officially naming himself coat check attendant, Bender slams the door and rubs his gloved hands together, going for the first bulging wallet he sees.


	18. Dork

Brian isn't sure what he's doing here.

Here, as in, sitting on one of the many carpeted staircases leading to the second floor of Stubbie's house. The place is huge. The layout reminds Brian of one of his sister's dollhouses.

Couples pass by him on their way to the bedrooms. He has a plastic cup full of beer he pretends to drink whenever someone spots him.

A brunette being led by a buff football player stares down at Brian as they pass.

"Didn't you read the sign?" she snaps. "No nerds allowed!"

Brian nods his head, using the wall to stand. "Right, sure. I will definitely go look at that. Thanks."

He shoves his free hand in his pocket and makes his way downstairs. The place is pulsing. Brian checks his watch. 9:15. He and his friend Liam made a bet on when they think the cops will show up. Liam said 10:30. Brian said 11.

Brian notices kids pushing into the backyard, spilling drinks everywhere. He shoves through a group of kids standing in the entrance to the kitchen and heads through the large double doors.

Outside is a mess. Someone threw toilet paper into the trees lining the back of the property. Trash is lying everywhere, and not just the kind you throw out, either; kids have passed out on the grass near the fence. Brian watches as someone hooks the hose into the sprinkler, setting it off near them. A few wake up screaming.

The pool is packed with kids swimming and splashing around, some lying out on pool floaties. Brian notices Stubbie and two other guys emptying bottles of dish soap into the water, mixing it with their arms.

Brian turns around to go back inside when he finds himself face-to-face with Curtis Malfis.

"Brian, my pal!" Curtis claps him on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were here!"

Brian feels his cheeks redden. "Uh, yeah. I just stopped by. Listen, Curtis, about what happened at lunch the other day-"

"Oh, don't mention it, buddy! What'cha drinking? Need a refill?"

"Uh, no. No, that's okay. Really. I – oh!" Brian glances at his watch and smacks his forehead. "Well, look at the time! I didn't realize it was so late!"

Brian steps to the left. Curtis steps in front of him, arms crossed. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, yeah. I have to go, ya know, study." He swallows the lump in his throat. "For my, uh, Physics test on Monday!"

Brian steps to the right. Curtis, again, steps in front of him. "You calling me stupid?"

Brian frowns. "What? N-no. Of course not!"

"You sure? Because it sounds like you're calling me stupid. Sorry we can't all be nerds and take smart classes like you, Brian."

Curtis starts forward. Brian takes a few steps back, throwing his hands up.

"Woah, woah. Curtis, man, listen, I know you're not stupid."

Curtis grins. Brian looks down. He's at the edge of the pool now. A crowd watches. Shit.

"No, but you sure are."

Curtis throws his arms straight forward and shoves Brian into the pool. His cup of beer goes flying. Soapy water fills his mouth and nose, burning his eyes. He resurfaces, splashing around, coughing. His blonde hair hangs down in his eyes, covering his vision. He hears loud laughter.

Somewhere next to him, someone shouts, "Dork!"


	19. What's The Deal?

Everything is pulsing. The music, the blood in his veins, his head. Mostly his head.

Loud laughter floats in through the open back doors as Andy stumbles into the kitchen, grabbing the island counter for support. He fills his cup to the brim with beer, taking a large sip.

"There you are!" a voice calls from his left.

Andy turns his head, his vision dancing. "Oh, hey," he mumbles, letting all the lines straighten out again. He grins a crooked grin when he realizes it's Stubbie. "Oh, hey! I've been looking all over for you."

"Yeah? You don't look too good, man."

Andy throws his hand sloppily in the air as a dismissal. "Nah, I'm fine." He suppresses a hiccup.

Stubbie grins, opening the fridge and pulling out a nearly empty bottle of ketchup. "Good, because I've found a group of _stunning_ ladies who would love a round of spin the bottle." He winks at Andy as giggles float all around.

Andy slants his eyes, noticing the group of girls huddled in the doorway. Where had they come from?

"To the basement, then?" Stubbie says, letting a blonde take his arm as he leads the way. All the girls follow, except for a pretty redhead who comes over to Andy and takes his arm.

"Hi," she says, twirling a strand of silky hair. "I'm Haley."

"Ally?" Andy frowns at her, then shakes his head to clear it. No. No, this can't be Ally. Everything about her is so wrong.

"No," the girl drawls out. "Haley."

"Yeah. Isn't that what I said?" Andy's drink sloshes over the side of his cup as he pulls her along into the basement. She huffs behind him.

"Had a little too much, have you?" she tries to tease.

He grins at her. "Too much? Not enough, I'd say!"

A group has formed in the center of the basement. Stubbie waits for Andy and Ally... _Haley_ to sit before he dims the lights.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen." He places the bottle in the center of the circle. "You spin, and whoever it lands on... wins." Stubbie winks at the blonde.

"I'll go first," Haley volunteers, smiling at Andy as she spins.

The bottle lands on Jacob, a tan skinned boy. Haley stretches across the circle and kisses his cheek quickly, frowning and staring longingly at Andy. Jacob takes his turn, kissing a larger brunette a few places to his right.

The game goes on for some time, the bottle miraculously never landing on Andy once. It's Stubbie's turn now, and his spin lands on Haley. He tries to kiss her mouth, but she turns her head quickly so he only catches the side of her lips and her cheek. Haley spins, the bottle landing on the girl to Andy's right – Sarah, he thinks. Quickly, Haley grabs the tip of the bottle and turns it slightly until it lands on him. He hears snickers.

"Pucker up, cutie pie!" Stubbie calls from across the circle, making kissing noises at Andy.

Haley smiles as she leans in, but Andy leans back. So far back that he smacks his head on the wood floor.

"Ow," he mutters, rubbing the back of his head.

Haley's hand flies across her mouth as she leans over him. "Are you like, okay?"

"I'm good." Andy sits up and nearly has time to dodge Haley again.

"Dude, what's the matter?" Stubbie asks, setting his cup down.

Andy shakes his head. He swears he feels his brain rattling around in there. "You," he points at Haley, watching as she takes on a look of offense. "I mean, no, not you. But it is. You're not Ally."

"Who?" she demands, narrowing her eyes, sitting on her knees with her hands on her hips.

"Ally. Al-ly. Ally! I want Ally. Not you!" Andy stands up quickly and makes his way to the steps, knocking over some cups as he goes.

"Andy!" Stubbie shouts, his voice fading as Andy takes two steps at a time. He bursts through the door, glancing around. "Ally," he calls, "has anyone seen Ally?"

A few stop and glance at him curiously. A few shake their heads, some girls perking up.

"Ally!" he shoulders his way through the crowd. "I need Ally!"

"Andy?" a shy voice says behind him.

Andy turns around quickly and falls over. He looks up, smiling brightly as the light from the hall halos her head. "Ally!"


	20. Why'd You Do That?

_Lame._ That's the only word Claire can think to describe this party. She glances at the watch on her wrist. It's nearly ten. She has to beat her parents home before eleven so she can take a shower. She grabs a strand of her hair and takes a sniff, wrinkling her nose. Yeah, she's never came home from "studying with Ella" smelling like this before. Well, okay, there _was_ that one time...

Claire shakes her head to clear it. "Hey, Cherry!" She turns around, unamused.

"So you _do_ answer to that nickname, huh? It's kinda like calling a dog," Johnny Ore says with a smile. A tanned drunk girl is loosely clinging to his arm, her black hair longer than her miniskirt. Johnny motions to the pitcher in his hand and then Claire's red cup. "Need a refill?"

Claire turns back around and lifts her middle finger over her shoulder. She can hear Johnny laughing as she walks away.

It takes a minute for Claire to realize she's on the other side of the house now. It's less crowded here, the music harder to hear. She sighs. Finally, some quiet. She pushes open the first door she sees, a guest room she thinks, and drops her cup to the floor. The two half-naked figures on the bed look up, panting.

Claire squints into the dark. "Ella?!"

Ella pulls one of the sheets up to cover her brassiere. "Oh, Claire! Oh, thank God it's only you!"

Claire nods her head, looking back into the empty hall and pointing. "I'm uh, just gonna go now."

From under the covers James SomebodyOrOther, who probably has a class with Claire during whatever period, peers out, smiling at her. "Hey, wanna join?"

Claire shuts the door just as she hears the resonating _smack_ from Ella, shuddering. Glancing down, she notices dark liquid creeping out from under the door. She puts her hand over her mouth and moves her shoes, praying that either: one, Stubbie's parents don't use this room often (and from the recent scene, she's _really_ hoping for this) or two, the stain comes out easily before anyone notices.

She knocks on the next door and waits a few seconds. When no one answers, she opens it.

The great thing about Stubbie's house is that he has three huge walk-in closets; two downstairs and one upstairs. And thankfully this one is unoccupied.

Claire snaps on the light and looks at the different hanging garments belonging to Stubbie's mother, running her hand over a beautiful brown fur coat.

The door slams shut behind her, the lock clicking into place. She starts to turn around just as he grabs her arm, pushing her gently against the wall. He places his hands on either side of her, tilting his head and studying her.

She feels her breath hitch. "Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," he whispers back.

And then Bender is turning out the light, his mouth easily finding hers.


	21. What's Wrong?

"Ally, you're here!" Andy says as Ally helps pull him to his feet. He sways and begins to fall forward, Ally catching him at the last minute. He mutters a thank you as Ally pulls him through the crowd.

Fresh air feels like a smack across Andy's face as the pair stumble out front. Ally helps him sit on the stoop, dropping down gently next to him. He leans forward and takes deep breaths, shuttering and dry heaving. When he finishes he looks over at her, wincing at the look of disgust all over her face.

"How drunk are you?" she asks as a group of kids run yelling out of the house, the smell of weed following close behind them.

"Only a little," he says with the lift of one shoulder. He reaches out for her and she draws back. "I-I've been looking all over for you. I wasn't even sure you were gonna show up."

Ally is quiet for a minute. "Neither was I," she says, unsure if he heard her.

"I was playing spin the bottle," he blabbers on as if she hadn't said anything.

"Really?"

"Yeah, and this girl. Holly? Hannah? Whatever, I kept thinking she was you." He laughs, his grin going from ear to ear. "And she," he stops and slaps his knee, he's laughing so hard now. He wipes tears from his eyes. "Oh, Ally, you should've seen how mad she was."

"I bet. Did you kiss her?"

Andy hiccups through his laugh. "No, of course not. I only wanna kiss you."

Ally is tense, her hands pressed together between her legs. "Do you now?"

"Right now?"

"What?" Ally finally looks over at him.

"Right now? Do I want to kiss you right now?"

"Andy, that's not-"

"Because I do. I'd kiss you forever, if I could. And hold your hand. And let you wear my jacket. Do you still have my patch?"

Ally is silent for a minute before she reaches into her bag, handing the patch over to Andy. He takes it gently, turning it over in his hands. He smiles at her warmly.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"Andy-"

"Ally." He scoots closer to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and dragging her towards him. She claws at his wrist until he lets go. "I don't get it, what's wrong? Don't you love me back?"

There are tears in Ally's eyes now. She shakes her head, letting out a small sob. "You don't mean that."

"Yes. Yes, I do. I love you Ally."

"No, you don't." She stares at him hard, her face red and watery. "You're saying that because the alcohol messed with your brain." She motions to the kids on the lawn, to the ones standing inside by the door. "What are your friends gonna think, huh?"

"I don't care what they think. Not about you."

She stands up. "Yes, you do. When they tell you about this tomorrow, about how you were crying out for the headcase Allison Reynolds, you're gonna laugh. You're gonna laugh and claim you don't remember a thing."

He stands up, wavering a little. He reaches for her arm but she pulls back.

"And you know what? You're lucky. You're lucky because you _won't_ have to remember any of this. You won't have to remember me." She jabs a finger into her chest. "But I will. So thanks for that."

She runs into the house, knocking into people as she goes. Andy calls out for her, but she disappears into the crowd.

She finds herself in the kitchen, leaning over the island counter and sobbing. A bunch of kids stare at her and point, whispering behind their hands. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve, looking up.

"Someone pass me a drink," she demands. A boy slides a red cup her way and she lifts it to her mouth, taking a large sip. It burns as it goes down.

"Hey." Someone touches her shoulder and she pulls away, ready to snap before she realizes it's not Andy.

"Hello," Allison mutters quietly, taking another sip.

"Are you Ally?"

She nearly chokes on her drink, wiping her mouth. She studies the redhead, not someone she's familiar with.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Haley. I-"

Ally tunes her out as someone moving through the crowd catches her eye. She thinks it's Claire, squinting to see.

Ally turns back to the girl when the figure disappears, seeing her arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Oh shit, did she ask her something?

Ally leans forward. "Huh?" she asks. She notices a boy not too far behind the redhead eavesdropping, a slight grin on his face. It's Stubbie, Andy's friend, the host of the party.

"OH SHIT!" Someone runs through the crowd, waving his arms hysterically. "EVERYONE OUT. COPS!"


	22. What Would Your Friends Say?

Early Sunday evening, April 1, 1984. Shermer to Springfield, Illinois.

"What the fuck?"

Bender's eyes bug out of his head when he opens his front door to find Claire Standish on his porch. He leans against the door frame, trying to block her view of the kitchen. "The fucking mall shut down or something?"

Claire shrugs. "I got lost."

"Like hell you did!"

Claire twirls a set of car keys around her ring finger. "Wanna go for a drive?"

* * *

The wind runs its fingers through Bender's hair as Claire makes her way down the highway, the top to her car down. Bender notices clouds darkening the sky. He has his arm up around the back of her seat.

"So where are we going, anyway?"

Claire shrugs one shoulder.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Claire shrugs both shoulders. She hunches over the steering wheel a bit. "I'm grounded and got bored, so I felt like going out. If you didn't want to come, you could've just said no," she snaps.

Bender throws both his hands up. "Woah, woah. Don't get all defensive on me. I was just asking, jeez." He notices the sign for Springfield pass them. He stares at her.

"Springfield? If you're grounded, then why are we going to Springfield?"

"I'm grounded with conditions."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I'm grounded unless I'm attending a school function."

"We're going to Springfield for a school function?"

"No."

"Please use your words and explain this all to me, Claire."

Claire sighs. "My parents think I'm working on my French project with Ella. I'm with you. Get it now?"

Bender leans over and pulls the brown sunglasses from off Claire's eyes. Claire swats him away, bright orange hair tickling her face. "Bender, do you mind?! Jesus, I'm trying to drive here, unless you want us both dead."

Bender studies the sunglasses, sliding them over his own eyes. He shudders, not liking the way they feel on his face. He takes them off, noticing the name on the inside of the arm. Prada. He snorts.

"So where's Ella at, then?"

Claire shrugs again. "Working on our French project."

"And where does she think you are?"

Claire glances at Bender, giving him a sly smile. "Grounded."

* * *

 The air is cooled by the time they hit Springfield. Claire puts the top up, rubbing the goosebumps on her arm. Her hair is a bird's nest. She glances at Bender. He stares back.

"You keep doing that."

Claire bites a pink lip, inching the car forward. "Doing what?"

"Looking over at me like I'm gonna jack your radio and take off with it."

Claire shrugs, then looks over at him, dead serious. "Wait, you wouldn't, right?"

Bender throws his hands up. "Okay, so we're in Springfield. What are we gonna do?"

Claire points to a billboard looming over them. Bender squints up at it. "Bowling, three miles north." He snorts. " _Bowling?_ "

"Got anything better to do?" Claire asks, stepping on the gas as the light changes.

* * *

 Embarrassed is the first emotion Bender feels as Claire hands him his pair of bowling shoes. "I could've paid for that, you know. You don't have to treat me like some guy you picked up off the side of the road or somethin'."

Claire studies him. "I wasn't. I invited you, I paid for you." She shrugs. "It's simple."

"It's insulting. I'm the man, I should pay for you."

Claire rolls her eyes and says nothing, heading down towards an open lane.

Bender follows her, opening his arms wide. "And there are plenty of bowling alleys in Shermer."

Claire picks up a red bowling ball, running her hand around it. "There's also plenty of people to see us together in Shermer."

Bender grins. "You're ashamed to be seen with me, aren't you, Claire?"

"Oh, don't give me that. You know it's true for you, too."

Bender lifts one shoulder, the grin still on his face. "Touche."

Claire points. "You're up first."

* * *

 Hours later finds Claire and Bender laughing in a small booth at Giordie's, a random diner Bender picked out after he was bored of bowling and Claire was hungry.

Claire sips her milkshake, her bracelet clanging with the table as she sets down her arm and leans back, laughter still on her face. Bender shakes his head, looking up at her through his hair.

"So tell me, Miss Standish," he leans forward, "did you have fun on this _date_?"

Claire's face reddens and she scratches the back of her neck. "C'mon, Bender, this wasn't a date."

"Oh?" he rests his chin on his folded hands, elbows up on the table. He cocks his head a bit. "Then what was it?"

"We went bowling and we got hungry so we left and went to dinner."

"Went to dinner?"

"Went for a snack! You know what I mean," she huffs.

"So we went out?"

"Yes."

Bender grins.

"I mean, no! I mean we went out but not together. I mean together but not like a-"

"A date?"

Claire points a pink finger at him. "Exactly!"

"So if it's not a date, what is it then, hmm?"

Claire thinks for a minute, leaning over and taking a fry from their shared basket in the middle of the table. She shoves it in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. Bender picks one up, stirring the ketchup with it. He looks up at her as she swallows.

"An outing."

"A what?"

"An outing. This was not a date, but an outing," Claire says, looking pleased.

"Isn't that what people say when they're on a date but don't want to admit it?"

"No, it's what people do when they want to spend the day together."

"But we spent the night together. And stop shrugging!"

Claire grins as Bender licks his lips. He leans back, twirling the same fry in his hand.

"Claire Standish."

"John Bender."

"Admit this was a date."

Claire grins, narrowing her eyes. "Or what?"

Bender holds up the fry tipped with ketchup. "Or this stains your blouse."

Claire's hands come up, trying to cover as much of her top as she can. Her face is one of horror. "Bender, you wouldn't!"

"I would." He pretends to launch it and Claire flinches, slamming shut her eyes. She opens them slowly, staring at him.

Claire lowers her arms after a minute of Bender not doing anything, a grin on his face. "Why are you so adamant on me saying that word?"

Bender lowers the fry. "What's that mean?"

"What?"

"Adamant."

Claire frowns, thinking. "It means you want me to say this was a date and won't be persuaded otherwise. Why?"

Bender shrugs, then leans forward. "Because you like me, and I want to hear you say so."

Claire leans forward too. "But why?" she whispers.

_Because I think I like you back._

Bender can feel his thoughts swirling, everything mixing together. Fuck. _FUCK._

He leans back against the booth and takes a large bite of the fry, but all he says is, "Pass the ketchup."


	23. A Social Situation

Late Monday morning, April 2, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

Since freshman year, Brian has prided himself on being number one in the senior class. That all ended last month when his grade went down in Woodshop, no thanks to that stupid fucking elephant lamp.

Now Brian stares at the back of the head belonging to the new number one, Brian's rival since sophomore year, Al Comack.

Brian humphs and tosses his pencil down on his desk, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. The physics equations on his paper swim in front of his eyes.

"Class," Mr. McKinley says from his desk, clearing his throat.

The quiet students look up from the lab tables. Mr. McKinley stands and straightens his tie, coming to the front of his desk and picking up a stack of papers. He glances at the clock quickly as it ticks away the couple minutes left until sixth period.

"Just really quick. A date has been set for this year's science fair." He begins to go between the tables, handing fliers to each kid. "It will be on Sunday the twenty-second. That gives you about three weeks to complete your project. Realize that this is not mandatory, but I expect to see something there from each of you. You're all more than capable."

Mr. McKinley stops in the back of the room, putting his hands in his pockets. He watches the students mull over the fliers, murmuring. The bell sounds and a sigh of relief passes over the room. Mr. McKinley smiles. "Have a good day, class!"

Al waits for Brian by the door, smiling. "Hey ya, Brian!" Al calls, walking next to him into the hall.

"Hey, Al," Brian says with a forced smile, his books clutched to his chest.

Brian speeds up, dodging through the other kids in the hallway. Al stays right behind him, though.

"So, got any good ideas for the science fair?" Al calls over the loud hallway chatter.

"Nope. You?" Brian stops at the corner of the hall, finally looking at Al.

Al shrugs, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a large green notebook. "I'm gonna toss ideas around with Jessie later today."

Brian hates Al not only for threatening his position as valedictorian, but also because Al is one of the few nerds who fit in with the popular crowd. His family comes from wealth and he's dating a wealthy girl, Jessie Vonderdant, a girl Brian has seen chatting with Claire in the hallway on multiple occasions.

A slight grin starts at the corner of Al's mouth and he points. "Hey, is that...Curtis Malfis standing by your locker?"

Brian's head swings to the right, dread settling in his stomach. Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

Brian swallows. "Yeah, I guess it is," he says with a nervous laugh.

Al pats Brian's shoulder. Everyone knows you're a dead man walking if Curtis is looking for you.

"Good luck with all that, buddy. See you around."

Brian imagines popping his foot out and tripping Al as Al rounds the corner, but he finds himself more focused on the delinquent taking post outside his locker. Brian grins, realizing his Business notebook is already in his backpack and he can bypass his locker. He takes a few steps and slouches, remembering he needs his gym clothes. Damn. Brian straightens up and takes a deep breath, hurrying forward.

Curtis grins as Brian nears him.

"Pleasemoveyou'reinfrontofmylocker," Brian says quickly, mashing his words together.

Curtis steps aside, motioning for Brian to step forward. "Go ahead, my man."

Brian feels himself sweating as he twists his lock, numbers jumbling together in his head. This locker is new, seeing as how his old one was torched when the flare gun went off in it. Sometimes he confuses the combinations.

"Need help?" Curtis says right in his ear.

Brian jumps, his books scattering to the floor. "Dammit!" Brian cries, dropping down to grab his things. Curtis frowns, worried.

"Look," Brian snaps, standing up. "I already apologized for the lunch thing, and you got me back. TWICE. Can't you let it go already?"

Brian lets his things fall back to the floor as the late bell rings. He groans, grabbing his lock and fiercely twisting the numbers in. The lock pops off and he pulls his locker open, grabbing up his gym bag and slamming the damn thing shut again.

"I have let it go. And now I've found the perfect opportunity to let you make up for your mistake," Curtis says with a fabulous grin.

"Like I'm the one who needs to apologize," Brian mutters under his breath, snatching his things up again.

Curtis frowns. "Don't push it kid. Where ya going?"

"Business."

"I'll walk with ya."

Curtis slings an arm over Brian's neck, the two walking slowly down the nearly empty hallway. Brian can feel his pulse quicken dangerously.

"What do you want, Curtis?" Brian asks quietly, picking at the spine of his Physics notebook.

"The science fair. I need a partner."

Brian stops dead in his tracks, swallowing down a laugh as he turns to look at Curtis. " _You're _doing the science fair?"__

Curtis shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. He shifts from foot to foot. "Look, I'm failing Chem, alright? Mr. Jupiter said he'll give me extra credit if I do the damn thing. And it's your lucky day, Brian, because I've picked you to be my partner."

Brian frowns. "And if I say no?" His chest is tight, he dreads the answer.

Curtis laughs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. "I think you're smarter than that, Brian. That's why I picked ya." Curtis winks, motioning to the bathroom. "I'm gonna go have a smoke. I'll check in with you later, partner."

Curtis punches Brian's arm and walks off, leaving him dazed in the middle of the hallway.


	24. Cut It Out!

Early Tuesday morning, April 3, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

This is wrong. This is oh-so-totally wrong. Andy looks at the Post-It note in his hand, looking up and down the empty hall. He reaches back and rubs at his neck.

_Better hurry up before someone catches you,_ a voice says in his head, followed by, _DO IT._

Andy grabs the black combination lock in front of him and begins twisting in the numbers he sees on the note, his fingers fumbling. He pulls at the lock, willing it to open.

"C'mon," he mutters to himself, twisting the combination in again. On the third try the lock comes off and he stares at it in his hand, closing his fist over it as he pulls the locker open.

It's a bit messy as he expected, books and notebooks thrown all over. A gray coat with a fur-lined hood hangs from one of the hooks. He reaches up and opens the top compartment of the locker, a little amazed at what he sees.

It's not messy, not like the rest of the locker. It's actually very organized, full of art supplies. This is where he decides he'll leave it.

Andy reaches into his letterman jacket and pulls out the blue S patch, turning it over in his hands. A note sticks to the back - _I didn't forget you._ He reaches up and leans it against what he assumes to be a pencil case. Quickly he shuts the compartment and the locker, sticking the lock back on and hurrying off.

* * *

Two hours later Andy is headed to lunch when he spots Stubbie leaning against some lockers by the cafeteria doors, looking around wildly. Andy deflates when Stubbie notices him.

"Here we go," Andy mutters to himself and rolls his eyes as Stubbie comes to a standstill in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Andy shakes his head, moving to the right. "I don't know what you're talking about, Stub."

Stubbie grabs Andy's wrist roughly. "Bathroom," he snarls. "Now."

* * *

A young boy, probably in ninth grade, is washing his hands when Stubbie drags Andy into the bathroom.

"You. Out. Now."

"Stubbie-" Andy begins.

"NOW!" Stubbie roars.

The boy runs for the door, his messenger bag nearly tripping him as he goes. Andy watches him leave and points to the door.

"Was that really necessary?"

Stubbie isn't looking at Andy. He's pacing to the wall then turns, throwing his arms in the air as he slowly walks back.

"Oh, I don't know, Andy. Was it really _necessary_ that you pay Sara Davenport seventy dollars to get Allison Reynold's locker combination?"

Andy swallows, his face and wallet burning at the same time. He reaches up and rubs his neck again.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Andy mutters.

"Did you hit your head during practice or something?!" Stubbie asks, right up in Andy's face

"Shut up!" Andy yells, shoving Stubbie back.

Stubbie grabs Andy by his jacket and throws him against the stalls, one fist bundled in his jacket and the other raised next to his head. After a minute of nothing but heavy breathing from them both, Stubbie lets go, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. He points at Andy.

"You need to knock it off. I don't know what's going on with you," Stubbie is at the door now, throwing it open. He turns back to look at Andy, "but cut it out."

Stubbie storms out, leaving Andy alone.


	25. Oh, Be Honest

Early Wednesday morning, April 4, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

"Shit!" Claire rummages through the last notebook in her bag, stomping her foot and groaning. Quickly she grabs her soy latte off the top shelf of her locker and shuts it, hurrying down the hall.

"Ella!" she cries when her best friend's locker comes into view. "Ella, quick, can I borrow your French notebook? I forgot mine at home and – oh. Hello, Patsy."

On the other side of Ella, Patsy G. smiles. The _G_ is because there's a less popular girl in eleventh grade with the same first and last name, and _clearly_ one of them had to change. To mix them up is social suicide. Claire empathizes.

Ella turns to Patsy. "Patsy, mind giving us a sec?"

Patsy reaches out and touches Ella's arm, a false look of concern crossing her face. "Of course. I'll be right down there." She smiles at Ella. "Chat with you later, _Claire_ ," Patsy snorts, sliding the strap of her purse up her arm as she walks off.

"Okaaay," Claire says slowly, pointing her thumb over her shoulder in the direction Patsy went. "What was that all about?"

Ella shakes her brown hair from her shoulder, fixing her shirt before she looks at Claire. "I had to go to Springfield last night," she begins, not answering the question. "Aunt Trisha fractured her ankle."

Claire gasps. Ella's aunt Trisha, like the rest of Ella's family, is a wealthy woman who loves to take the girls shopping, a true sweetheart.

"Oh my gosh, Ella! I'm so sorry, why didn't you call me? I totally would've came with."

"Well from what I understand, you've already been to Springfield once this week, haven't you Claire?" Ella pops the top off a stick of lip gloss, using the mirror hanging in her locker to delicately apply it.

"I don't-"

Ella forces the lid back on, almost rubbing her two lips into one as she stares Claire down. She gives a coy smile, crossing her arms. "You look confused, Claire."

And then Claire remembers. Bender. Springfield. Bowling. _OH._

"Ella-"

Ella sticks a hand up, turning her head the other way. "Save it, Claire. It's fine. You want to lie and keep secrets and hang out with..." Ella throws her hands around, scrunching her nose as she tries hard to think of a good word for Bender, "well, _him_ , that's fine."

Ella reaches over and snatches the soy latte from Claire's hand, replacing it with a notebook. "Take it, Claire, so at least I know _I'm_ a good friend."

Ella starts walking away as Claire reaches out for her. "Ella, please!"

Ella stops, standing forward for a minute before turning back to Claire. She takes one step closer. "Your social suicide is your own, Claire. But you won't be taking me down with you." She smiles again. "I'm gonna need that back in Chem."

She turns around again, leaving Claire alone to wonder what the hell just happened.


	26. We're All Pretty Bizarre

Early Thursday afternoon, April 5, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

Allison dips her paintbrush into the cup of water at her desk, watching the inky blue mix with the already murky green. She looks up again, glancing across the classroom; she can't help it. All week she's been watching Bender. Ever since Monday, his mood has seemed different. Not his usual pissy self, but more... light. _Happy._

His friends, they're the ones changing. All during class, she's watched the way they look at him, though she doesn't think Bender's noticed. They look... almost disgusted. She's sure they've heard the rumors by now, of Bender and Claire sneaking to Springfield for a date. It's all the rich kids have been talking about today. Allison tunes them out, though. It's not her business. And besides that, Claire and Bender are her friends, even if they don't think so.

Today during Algebra, Allison went to the bathroom and saw CLAIRE SNOBBISH = SLUT written on one of the stall walls. She spent the rest of the period turning the words into a large landscape of flowers and trees, faking a stomach virus when she got back to class to explain her absence. Two periods later and Allison still swears it was Ella's handwriting -

"Okay, class!" Mrs. Geller calls, clapping her hands three times in succession and pulling Allison from her thoughts. "Period's almost over, time to start cleaning up!"

Allison takes her brush and cup of water to one of the sinks, pouring the water down the drain. The final bell rings as she's cleaning the bristles. She jumps when someone reaches over her shoulder and dumps a nasty cup of water on her hands.

"Was there something on my face?" Allison tenses and hunches her shoulders, Johnny Ore's breath hot on her ear. "There better have been, for the way you kept staring at me."

"Mr. Ore."

Johnny and Allison both turn to find Mrs. Geller. She crosses her arms, giving him a stern look.

"Class is over, time for you to go."

Johnny nods, hiking his leather jacket up a little higher.

"Mr. Ore," Mrs. Geller says again once he's at the door.

Johnny stops and licks his lips, swinging his head around.

"The next time you feel the need to harass Miss Reynolds, you will find yourself in detention, do I make myself clear?"

Johnny salutes, giving a grin. "Duly noted," he says, slamming the door behind him.

Allison is scrubbing paint off her hands when Mrs. Geller comes over to the sink, cleaning up discarded brushes.

"Thanks, Mrs. Geller," Allison says, switching off the water and drying her hands with some paper towels. She throws them away, rolling her sleeves back down and crossing her arms.

Mrs. Geller makes a dismissing notion with her hand. "Don't worry about it, Allison. Don't let kids pick on you like that. You're a bright girl."

Mrs. Geller smiles, heading for the front of the room. Allison goes back to her desk, grabbing her painting and setting it on the drying rack.

"So," Mrs. Geller begins, sliding her purse over her arm, "how's your scholarship essay going? Finish yet?"

Allison pauses, then shakes her head, pulling her sweater from her bag and sliding it on.

"No, I uh, haven't really had any luck with it." Allison gives a grim smile, slipping her bag over her head.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. There's still time, don't push yourself." Mrs. Geller smiles. "Well, have a nice day, Allison."

Allison smiles back. "You too, Mrs. Geller."

* * *

 The halls are empty of kids as Allison wanders through them, clapping her hands together as she walks.

_Who inspires you?_ she thinks to herself. _Not Mom. Not Dad. Mrs. Geller? She's nice, yeah, but she hasn't really inspired me with much. I need something refreshing. Something no one else will do. Something like..._

Allison stops at one of the lockers, tilting her head as she looks at it. It's been blocked off with yellow caution tape, the door to the locker having been completely removed. It's entirely blackened inside, with some of the red locker next to it burned as well. Allison licks her lips.

_Something like Brian._


	27. Fuck You

Early Friday morning, April 6, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

"Sup, Johnny?" Bender greets as he sees Johnny leaning next to his locker, arms crossed over his chest.

"Bender," Johnny replies, standing up straight as Bender begins to twist the dial of his locker.

Johnny sniffles, scratching the back of his head. Bender pulls off the lock – new, by the way, since his went missing about a week ago - and throws the door open, peeling off his scarf and long coat, tossing them and his sunglasses inside. He kneels down and starts digging through the pile of shit at the bottom of his locker for his English notebook when Johnny clears his throat. Bender flips his hair out of his eyes, looking up.

"Something up, man?" Bender asks, licking his lips and standing up.

Johnny shrugs innocently. "I just think we need to talk is all."

Bender grins, shaking his head. He reaches to open the top compartment of his locker when something smashes into the back of his head, blackening his vision.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Bender hollers, turning around. A purse lays down by his feet.

"Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?"

Bender looks up to see Stacey stumbling down the hall, her arms slung around her best girlfriend, Dahlia.

"Woah, are you drunk?" Johnny asks, looking between Stacey and Bender.

Stacey stops and points a black nail at Bender, swallowing loudly. "Fuck you, John Bender. Sleeping around with that slut Claire like I wouldn't know." Stacey is wobbling, nearly tipping out of her boots.

"You drunk bitch," Bender spits in disbelief.

Stacey grabs the thermos in Dahlia's hand and spins the top off, taking a swig.

"You brought that shit to school?" Johnny asks, majorly impressed.

Stacey throws an arm out. "What can I say? I'm a drunk BITCH!" Stacey flings the contents of the thermos onto Bender, soaking him through both his shirts.

The smell of vodka hits Bender's nose. He looks up at Stacey, curling his fist. "You've done it now!"

"What the hell is going on? Hey!" Bender looks up, watching as Vernon and two teachers hurry over.

Johnny looks like a deer caught in headlights. Dahlia rolls her eyes. Stacey lets a breezy laugh float past her red lips. Bender looks ready to kill.

"I'm drunk," Stacey announces, throwing her arm out and laughing. "I'm drunk." And then she breaks into sobs, letting go of Dahlia and falling to the floor.

"Stacey," Dahlia says, crouching down next to her. "C'mon, lemme help you up."

Stacey waves a hand away. "No, no." She hiccups. "I'm fine." She looks over at Bender. "What'cha gonna do, Bender?" She opens both arms. "Huh?!"

"Alright, enough of this nonsense. You two," he snaps at the two teaches, "help her up and get her to my office. As for the rest of you," Vernon looks at the other four, eyes narrowed. "Expect to be called down to my office later. And you," he points at Bender, who licks his lips. "Go to the nurse's office and change. You smell even worse than you usually do."

As Vernon turns away, Johnny throws his hands out and grabs Bender by the arm. "Don't do it, man. Not this close to graduation," Johnny whispers in his ear, watching as Bender curls his fist once again. Johnny lets go once Vernon is out of sight.

"DAMMIT!" Bender slams his locker shut, now realizing a crowd had begun to gather in the surrounding halls. Quickly he puts the lock back on and hurries away, elbowing through kids to get to the bathroom.

* * *

Bender has his hands gripped over either side of a sink, his breathing harsh. He hears the bathroom door open and looks up, ready to strike. Curtis comes in, a shirt hanging in one hand.

"Relax, it's just me," Curtis says, coming over.

Bender closes his eyes and shakes his head, breathing over the sink again.

"Here." Bender looks over as Curtis offers him the shirt. "My gym shirt. Or you could go to the nurse and get something nerdtastical to wear for the rest of the day." Curtis shrugs. "Up to you."

Bender pulls his jean jacket off, tossing it over the top of one of the stalls. He unbuttons his blue shirt and then pulls off the black long-sleeve underneath, dropping them to the floor as he takes Curtis's shirt. He pulls it on, narrowing his eyes as he sees Curtis frowning at him.

"Fucking what?" Bender snarls.

Curtis reaches over and takes Bender's left wrist in his hand, pulling his arm out straight and staring at the bruise forming near the crook of his elbow. Curtis lets go and huffs as Bender crosses his arms, refusing to look at him.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Curtis asks.

"You know my dad, Curtis."

"Is that everything that happened?" Bender looks at Curtis now, watching him raise his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you want from me!" Bender snaps, pulling his jacket down and sliding it back on.

"I want you to tell me why you're hanging out with-"

"Don't fucking say something you may regret in the next few seconds," Bender warns, his voice dangerous.

"Why are you hanging out with her?!" Curtis snaps, taking a step forward. He's not afraid of Bender and Bender knows it.

"That's not your business. That's not anyone's business!"

"I'm supposed to be your best fucking friend, so I'd say yeah, it is my business. She's not our kind, Bender."

"Our kind?" Bender laughs. "Ha. Maybe I'm tired of _our kind_ , Curtis."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means maybe I'm getting sick of hanging around with a bunch of low lives."

Curtis raises his eyebrows again. "So we're low lives now? Remember that you're not any better."

Bender nods, licking his lips. "Yeah? Yeah, okay. Some fucking best friend, Curtis."

Bender reaches down and grabs his shirts from the floor, slamming his shoulder into Curtis as he makes his way out of the bathroom.

"Don't be an idiot, Bender!" Bender hears just as the door slams shut.


	28. Know Why I'm Here Today?

Early Saturday evening, April 7, 1984. 113 Cochrane Lane, Shermer, Illinois.

The sun is beginning to set as Mrs. Johnson's car rumbles down the road. Around them is mostly farmland; the outskirts of Shermer. Brian checks his watch and then the clock on the dash. The times are perfectly synced, 5:50 PM. Brian leans back into the passenger's seat, watching as Mrs. Johnson nears the last house before a patch of trees leading out of Shermer. She stops the car, putting it in park. She picks up the pamphlet sticking from the top of her purse, opening it up. She glances up at the house on their left.

"Well, this is it. Dr. Koel Jettson."

Brian leans around his mother and spots a wooden THERAPIST sign hanging from the farm house, watching as it sways back and forth with the breeze.

"Mom." Mrs. Johnson turns to look at her son, ready to counter any of his arguments. "I..." He motions to the farmhouse. "Why can't I go see a real professional? One in the city or something."

"Brian Johnson, now you listen here. Dr. Jettson is a good man. He worked with Penny, you know the head nurse, her daughter Kimbra, when she started doing drugs. He has a degree like any other professional in the city would. Now, go and be productive, and I'll pick you up at seven on the dot."

Brian is quiet as Mrs. Johnson leans over and kisses his cheek, reaching around him to pop open the door. Brian watches the clock change to 5:55. He unhooks his seat belt and climbs from the car, giving his mother a grim smile.

"Make sure to look both ways!" Mrs. Johnson cries as Brian looks to cross, rolling his eyes at his mother. "Have a good day!" she yells out again once Brian makes it to the other side.

* * *

The door swings open before Brian can even raise his fist to knock, a man standing on the other side of the threshold. He smiles at Brian.

"Hello, you must be Brian." Brian opens his mouth to speak but closes it, nodding instead. Dr. Jettson steps aside, spreading out his arm. "Please, come in. We've been waiting for you."

Dr. Jettson closes the door. Brian finds himself standing in an open, well-lit living room, chairs set in a circle in the middle of the room. On the other side by the large windows is a table with a red cloth, snacks arranged atop it.

"Please help yourself to something if you're hungry," Dr. Jettson says with a smile, pointing to an open seat. "And there's a seat right there for you. Once you're settled, we'll begin."

Brian swallows the lump in his throat and steps forward, easing himself into one of the chairs. He glances at the faces around him, not recognizing any. He sighs gratefully.

"Alright," Dr. Jettson says, clapping his hands once as he lowers himself into his chair. "Now that everyone is here, I'd like to say welcome." Dr. Jettson opens his arms and smiles, looking around at the circle. Everyone seems suddenly interested in the floor. "Well then, is there anyone here who would like to begin? How about you, Sarah?"

Brian glances up as someone clears their throat. He realizes it's the girl left of him. She has jet black hair like Dr. Jettson, except, y'know, she sports a hot pink streak through her short cut.

"My name is Sarah," she says quietly. "Sarah Averdacki. I'm sixteen and I'm a junior at Shermer."

"Hi, Sarah," Dr. Jettson responds happily, the others mumbling hello as well. "Why don't you tell us why you're here."

Sarah shrugs. "I'm here because, uh," she swallows. "I'm here because..." Tears start rolling down her cheeks and she buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobs.

Dr. Jettson nods. "It's okay, Sarah, this is a safe place to cry."

Sarah sniffles and wipes her cheeks with the sleeve of her black sweater. She hiccups. "I don't want to talk anymore," she says, licking her lips.

Dr. Jettson nods. "That's alright, Sarah. Thank you for sharing with us. Who's next?" Dr. Jettson nods to the boy next to Sarah, and so the circle goes.

Kyle Dawson. 18. Dropped out of Shermer as a senior at the beginning of the year, though Brian doesn't remember him. Here for abusing his girlfriend.

Eloise Knoback. 20. Freshman at Shermer Community College, originally from France. Here for drinking problems.

Suzie Zarrah. 14. Freshman at Shermer High School. Here for sleeping with older boys.

Emily Saunders. 16. From Decatur, Illinois. Here because she's staying with her overly religious aunt and uncle. "I need fixed," Emily says, swallowing. "According to my parents, anyway."

"Why?" Suzie asks, chomping on a large wad of gum.

"Because I..." Emily trails off, pulling her jean jacket tighter on herself. "I was caught with a girl."

Kyle looks up, eyebrows raised. "So you're fucking gay?" he blurts out.

"Kyle, please. Let's all be respectful."

"So you're telling me I have to sit in the room with some dirty-"

"Shut up!" The words leave Brian's mouth before he's even aware he spoke them. All eyes are on him.

"What'd you say, punk?" Kyle snarls.

"Gentlemen, please. One at a time. This is a calm place, I will not allow fighting here."

"You're probably one of them too, aren't ya?" Kyle ignores Dr. Jettson.

"I hope your girlfriend didn't stick around. She doesn't deserve your shit," Brian snaps.

Kyle stands up, his fists clenching and unclenching. He's big, could beat the crap out of Brian in .05 seconds. Brian swallows as Kyle puts his green hat on, covering his short blond hair.

"I'm gonna take a break and go outside for a second," Kyle says, shooting a glance at Brian as he heads for the front door, slamming it behind him.

Dr. Jettson sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Well that was... not how I planned any of this to go. Brian, in the future, please don't argue with Mr. Dawson. Let me handle it, okay?"

"Well your way of handling it sucks. You were gonna let him insult her!" Brian swallows after he's said it. He's never spoken back to an adult like this before, not really. He's been slapped a couple times for raising his voice to his parents, and now he fears the consequences.

"Why are you here?" a quiet voice asks next to Brian. He turns and looks at Sarah.

"Go on, Brian," Dr. Jettson encourages, leaning back into his seat.

"I'm here because... I...” Brian can feel his mouth go dry. He hasn't talked about it, not really. There was that time in detention with the others, but that was it. Once to the school counselor on the day it happened, but he had barely said two words then. "I was going to kill myself. In school." The words come out soft, his heart beating in his ears as his voice cracks.

"What for?"

Brian quickly turns around and sees Kyle. He hadn't heard him come in. They all watch as Kyle takes his seat.

"For failing woodshop."

"That's rough, man." Kyle shakes his head. "I was supposed to take woodshop two this year, if I hadn't dropped out."

"I'm in one," Brian says.

Dr. Jettson nods. "Now that we've all-"

"I'm sorry for what I said," Kyle cuts in, staring over at Emily. She won't look up from the floor. "I'm sorry to you too, Brian."

Brian gives a small smile. "Thanks."

"I'm here because..." Sarah pipes in. Her voice is low but Brian catches what she says. He turns to her, studying her carefully.

"What was that, Sarah?" Dr. Jettson asks hopefully.

"I'm here because..." Her eyes are wide and she starts rocking back and forth slowly. "Because I killed... I killed my sister." The last of the sentence comes out as a sob.

Brian tries to release the breath he's holding but he chokes on it instead, watching as Sarah cries next to him.

"How the hell did you do that?" Suzie asks.

"I was supposed to be watching her while my parents were out celebrating their anniversary." Tears are pouring from Sarah's eyes. "I was taking a bath. I didn't know the front door was unlocked. She went outside to get her ball, I didn't even know it was out there. She was playing alone, and it rolled into the street."

Eloise throws her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

"I heard sirens and someone pounding on the door. I grabbed a towel and ran downstairs. She was dead before she even hit the ground. And it's all my fault."

Sarah breaks out into more sobs, hiding her face again. Gently Brian reaches his arm out and wraps it around her shoulders, unsure if he should be doing it at all. At first she just looks up at him, staring at him through watery eyes. Then she scoots her chair closer, leaning into him and crying on his shoulder.


	29. Have You Ever Kissed A Boy On The Mouth?

Early Sunday afternoon, April 8, 1984.

"There he is! My winner!"

Andy stops at the bottom of the stairs when he hears his father's voice, smiling as he pulls his shirt on over his head. "Hey, Dad."

"Morning, son." Mr. Clark folds the newspaper down, peering up at the clock. "Or should I say afternoon. Go for a run this morning?"

Andy nods, going to the fridge and pulling out the orange juice. He holds the bottle up to his dad, who shakes his head and pushes his reading glasses further up his nose. He smiles at Andy.

"You did good yesterday at the meet, kid. I'm proud of you."

Andy takes a sip of his juice, leaning against the counter. "Thanks, Dad."

"Listen," Mr. Clark begins, turning the page, "why don't we go out for dinner when your mother gets home from work? To celebrate your victory."

Andy grins wide. His family doesn't celebrate wrestling wins, not really. His dad always congratulates him and pats him on the shoulder, then goes off muttering how he only wants a son who is number one. His mother crushes him in more hugs than he can count. And that's that.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome."

Mr. Clark nods. "Why don't you invite Stubbie? My treat." He smiles.

Andy stares down into his cup of orange juice.

"Andrew?" Andy looks up, startled. "Did you hear me?"

"Uh, yes, sir. I just, uh, I think Stubbie is busy tonight." Andy can feel the lump in his throat and pulls at the neck of his tank top.

"Did something happen?"

Andy is quiet for a minute. "We fought, Dad."

"Fought?" Mr. Clark's voice begins to raise as he haphazardly folds the newspaper, standing from the table. "Did he hit you? That rat bastard kid. I should call his father and tell him what _great_ parenting he's done! I hope you socked it to that son of a -"

"Dad!" Andy is shaking, nearly crushing the glass in his hand. "Dad, no, it wasn't like that. We just... yelled at each other." Andy runs a hand through his hair. "It's fine, okay?"

"Oh." Mr. Clark frowns, probably at the sudden need for no confrontation. "Well, that's different. I'm sure whatever it is, he'll apologize for." Mr. Clark stands in front of his son now. He leans forward, resting a hand on either of Andy's shoulders. "Remember, son. It's a dog eat dog world out there. And you need to be focused on number one – yourself. On _being_ number one. Once you make it to the championships next month and win, we'll have that scholarship to Ohio State in the _bag_. Don't worry about Stubbie."

Mr. Clark straightens and smiles. Andy refuses to look up, running his finger around the rim of the short glass in his hand. "Thanks, Dad," he mumbles.

Mr. Clark leans against the island counter, unconvinced. He folds his arms. "So, what was this fight about, exactly? Is he jealous of you for some reason? Probably for the fact that you're going to make it to college and his grades aren't exactly the best..."

"No, Dad. It wasn't like that."

"So? Tell me what it was then!"

Andy runs another hand through his hair, setting his cup down on the counter behind him. "It was about..." Andy licks his lips. His father is about to have a field day. "A girl, Dad."

Mr. Clark grins, just as Andy knew he would. "A girl? I didn't know you had a girlfriend!"

"I don't," Andy mutters under his breath, sure he wasn't heard thanks to his father's happy chattering.

"Andrew, I'm your father! You should be telling me about these things! Why, what's her name? Does she live here in Shermer, or did you meet her at an away tournament? I bet she's a cheerleader. You should bring her to dinner tonight! Andrew, do the two of you need condoms?"

"What? Dad, no!" Andy put his hands up. "Just. I'm going for another run."

"Andrew, we need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to discuss, Dad. She's not even my girlfriend!" Andy is at the back door now, hurriedly playing with the locks.

"Andrew, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, nothing you need to deny. We don't have to tell your mother about this, but we've never really sat down and thoroughly had a talk. Now," Mr. Clark grins and wags a finger at his son, not noticing Andy pulling a pair of sneakers on quickly, "when I was your age, there was this girl named Lindsey-"

"Stop, Dad! There isn't anything to tell Mom, there isn't anything we need to talk about, and _definitely_ not talking about that."

Andy pulls the door open, closing it behind himself and hurrying through the small backyard.

"Andrew!" Mr. Clark pulls the door open just as Andy hops the fence and into the road behind their house. "Andrew Clark, get back here this instant!"

Andy takes off down the road.

"Andy!"

* * *

Andy has his hands in his pockets and is staring down at his feet when he rounds the corner, smacking into someone.

"Shit," Andy mutters, jumping back. "Sorry." He looks up and smiles suddenly. "Allison? Hey."

Allison smiles back. "Hey, Andy."

"Where uh, where are you going?"

"I was gonna walk to Brian's house, see if he was home. What about you?"

Andy points a thumb from where he had came. "I, uh." He digs his hand further into his pocket, pulling out a small wad of bills. "Do you wanna go get some ice cream?"  


* * *

Andy and Ally walk the trail through the park, licking at their ice cream. Allison has vanilla covered in caramel syrup. Andy has strawberry with gummy bears on top.

"So," Allison looks at Andy from the corner of her eye, giving him a smirk. She stops and turns around, walking backwards so she can stare at him. "How did you get into my locker?"

Andy feels his cheeks darken. "Honestly? I uh," he gives a small laugh, "I paid Sara Davenport, you know how her mom works in the front office? I paid her to get me your combination."

Allison stops, studying him. Andy stares down at his ice cream, realizing how much of a stalker he must sound like. He jumps when she forcefully punches him in the arm.

"Ow! You hit like a dude."

Allison bites her lip, smiling. "Thank you." Her face turns serious. "I don't like you like that."

Andy goes around her, sitting at the first bench he finds a couple feet away. She plants herself next to him. "Like what?"

"Drunk. And stupid."

"So now I'm stupid?" Andy turns defensive.

"I just mean I know you care what your friends think. And I know they don't think highly of me."

"So that makes me stupid?"

"You were acting pretty stupid that night. Alcohol does that to people, Andy."

Andy crushes the ice cream cone in his hand, strawberry spilling down onto his knuckles. He tosses it to the ground, shaking the rest from his hand.

"I'm not stupid, Allison!” he shouts, standing up. "And you know what? I'm getting pretty sick of people telling me what I am and what I'm not, what I can and cannot do, who I can and cannot be associated with!" He stares at her, pointing an accusing finger. "You're no better than my dad, or my friends. You think you are, you think you're some innocent little saint because no one wants to hang out with you, but you're just as judgmental as everyone else, no matter how many times you claim not to be!"

Allison stares as Andy starts to walk back the way they came. "Andy," she mutters, standing up. "Andy! Andrew Clark!"

Andy freezes at the sound of his name, staring back as Allison comes storming up to him and pokes him the chest. He stumbles back, rubbing the now sore spot. Ow.

"You think you're some saint too, huh? You're not either. You're just as mean as everyone else!" Allison stares at him with tears in her eyes. "We all are, huh?"

Andy watches as she reaches into her bag, pulling out a cloth and grabbing his hand. She starts to wipe up the sticky pink mess.

"I'm sorry, Allison," Andy says, feeling like the breath has been pulled from his chest. "I didn't mean to yell at you."

Allison drops the cloth back into her bag, straightening the strap on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I called you stupid. You're not stupid."

"I like you," Andy says before he realizes he even has. "And I'm tired of everyone telling me that you're not good enough for me."

Allison shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe that's because I'm not," she says, her voice squeaky and small.

Andy shakes his head, reaching out and looping his arm around her. He drags her close, still shaking his head. "No," he says. "No."

And then he presses his lips to hers and kisses her, and for the first time in his life, Andrew Clark does not care who can see.


	30. This Should Be Stunning

Early Monday morning, April 9, 1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois.

Claire walks into Homeroom and smiles at Mrs. Demsky, casually glancing around. She spots Brian hunched over a desk in the back, his pencil quickly moving across some paper. Claire starts for him, dropping into the seat behind his. Brian turns around and smiles.

"Oh, hey, Claire," he says.

Claire pulls a nail file from her clutch and raises her eyebrows at him, focusing on her nails. "Turn back around and act like I'm not talking to you," she mutters.

Brian frowns but turns back around, holding his breath, confused as to what's happening.

"Listen. I'm ditching school tomorrow, I want you to come."

"What? Why?" he asks under his breath.

"Hush," she warns. "C'mon, just do it. The others are coming as well. When you get dropped off, wait and then head down the block to that market on the corner. I'll be waiting there."

"Where are we going?" Brian mumbles.

But Claire just gathers her things in her arms, standing up. "I'll see you there," she says to him under her breath, hurrying for a desk on the other side of the room.

* * *

Next period during History, Claire grabs the seat next to Allison, swiping a lock of red hair behind her ear. Allison glances up from her sketchpad and back down, her head shooting up again.

"Uh," Allison says. "Hey."

Claire looks over and gives a smile. "Who sits here?" she asks.

Ally shrugs one shoulder.

"Doesn't matter, I'll make this quick. I'm ditching school tomorrow, come with."

Allison narrows her eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone else is coming."

"You're lying, you wouldn't have seen anyone else today."

"I saw Brian."

"So you admit to lying?"

“You admitted to lying during detention.”

Allison snaps her mouth shut, facing forward.

"Look, meet me down the street by that market on the corner before school tomorrow, okay?"

"What's in it for me?" Allison asks, copying down the Do Now on the board.

Claire smiles, gathering up her things. She leans down towards Allison before she heads for her proper seat. "Andy," Claire whispers, and hurries away.

* * *

It's third period and Claire has been biting her pen the entire time. Claire needs to get to Bender, this is her only chance of seeing him today. Problem is, she's not sure how to get his attention without getting the attention of everyone else. Next to her, Ella hasn't said one word all period. Ella and Claire made up over the weekend – it was mostly just Claire repeatedly apologizing and making every excuse she could to not have a reason for hanging out with Bender - though they've only spoken small sentences to each other since.

When Bender gets up to use the bathroom, Claire realizes now is her chance.

"Mr. Jupiter?" Claire asks, her hand raising not even a minute after Bender has left.

Mr. Jupiter turns around from the chalkboard. "Yes, Miss Standish?"

"May I use the restroom, sir?"

"I'm sorry, but John just went. You know the rules, only one student out at a time."

"I know, sir, but this is a, uh..." Claire drops her voice for the second part, "female emergency."

Claire swears Mr. Jupiter is blushing but he coughs to distract himself and straightens his tie, leaving behind chalk dust fingerprints.

"Go on, then. I'll make this an exception."

Claire nods and snatches up her clutch, running for the door. When she closes it, she sees Ella staring after her.

Bender is in the hall at the water fountain, taking a generous sip. He looks up when he hears Claire's small heels clacking the floor and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, smiling.

"Did Jupiter forget I was gone that fast? I mean, geez, I know I'm a nobody but-"

Bender stops talking as soon as Claire is standing three inches from him, a smile on her beautiful pink lips. She looks around the empty hall.

"Me, Brian, and Ally and Andy are all skipping school tomorrow. Are you coming?"

Bender shoves his hands in his pockets, breathing out and staring at the floor. He looks up, his brown hair flipping back. He gives a smile and leans in.

"How could I resist?" he asks before pecking Claire on the lips.

They both stare wide-eyed at each other when Bender pulls back, another smile playing on his lips.

"By. By uh," Claire stutters. "By the market, down the street from the school. Meet us there." And with that Claire is gone, her entire face red and the ghost of Bender on her lips.

* * *

In fifth period French, Claire doesn't have to be as sneaky, but careful nonetheless. Andy sits to her left and Ella sits behind her. Everyone knows Claire and Andy sometimes chat, so speaking to him wouldn't be a problem. Ella hearing would be. 

About halfway through the class, Claire carefully tears a piece of paper in two. On the first one she writes a mean note about Darcy Finkle, the tenth grader in the back wearing a red skirt Claire would never be caught dead in. And that's exactly what she writes on the first note. She leans her hand back and feels Ella snatch the note, scanning it over quickly. Ella gives a light laugh, causing a stare from Mrs. Coque. Ella stares at her desk until the teacher turns away, handing the note back to Claire. Claire then switches the first note for the second, handing that one to Andy.

_We're all ditching school tomorrow, come with. Ally will be there. Meet me in the morning at the market down the corner. Destroy this note when you're done reading it and then look back at Darcy and pretend this was about her._

Andy does as the note instructs, crumbling it up and sticking it in his pocket, glancing back at Darcy.

At her desk, Claire smiles.


	31. The Latin Club

Early Tuesday morning, April 10, 1984. Shermer to Quincy, Illinois.

The morning finds Claire and the others at an empty gas station at the edge of town. Claire sits in the driver's seat, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss in the rear-view mirror. Behind her sits Ally, picking lint off of her long black skirt. Next to her is Brian, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, murmuring about being caught ditching school. Bender stands on the curb a few feet away, pacing slowly as he smokes a cigarette. Inside the little store is Andy, buying snacks and convincing the man behind the counter that yes, he is in fact in college and is here visiting his sick mother.

Claire pops her lips and honks the horn when Andy comes back out, signaling for Bender. He stubs his cigarette out on the ground, blowing out the last bit of smoke and shoving his hands in his pockets, walking over.

Andy climbs into the backseat, momentarily squishing Brian up against Ally. Brian grins at her nervously and she smiles. Bender puts the passenger seat back and climbs in, slamming the door as Claire starts the car. He turns around and stares at Andy.

"What'd ya buy?"

Andy peers into the plastic bag as Claire starts down the road, officially leaving town. "Got everyone a bottle of water, some small bags of chips, and candy bars."

Andy pulls the candy from the bag, passing one down to Ally and one to Brian, then hands one up to Bender, who snatches it up greedily. Andy stares at Bender a moment as he hurriedly peels the wrapper off, biting the chocolate in half.

"Uh. Want yours, Claire?"

"Not yet. Gross, Bender," she says as Bender chomps loudly.

"Some of us don't get to eat in the morning," Bender says, jabbing the other half of his candy bar in her direction.

Brian nervously plays with the candy in his lap. "So now will you tell us where we're going?"

Loud music suddenly fills the car, Bender thrashing forward and back quickly with the heavy metal. Andy grins as Brian cringes.

"Bender!" Claire shouts, reaching over and shutting the music off. Bender stares at her. "Do you mind? I'm trying to drive here!"

"What's a drive without any music?"

"Where are we going?" Brian asks again, this time a little louder.

Claire glances at him in the rear-view mirror, smiling. "Quincy."

"Quincy? That's two hours away!" Brian shouts with a panic.

"If the dweeb has a heart attack on this venture, we don't have to bring the body back, right?"

"I'm sure Quincy has many ditches," Andy agrees, grinning.

"What's in Quincy?" Ally asks, speaking for the first time that morning.

"My uncle's house."

"Your uncle's house?" Bender repeats.

"Bender, please put your seat belt on," Brian says worriedly.

Bender rolls his eyes, leaning back and snapping his seat belt on. "Happy?"

Brian gives a small nod.

"My uncle's house is huge," Claire continues. "I mean really big. And empty, as he is away on business with my aunt." Claire grins.

"So we're just randomly taking a trip to your uncle's house?" Bender asks. Claire nods. "What happens when your parents find out you ditched school again? Isn't that what got you in so much trouble in the first place?"

Claire shrugs. "I mean, I guess." She hadn't honestly thought about it.

"Do you want to know what will happen when my parents find out? And I say will because they <i>will</i>."

"No!" everyone in the car shouts. Ally gives a laugh.

"They'll kill me," Brian says, ignoring them all. "I'll probably have to sit and translate Latin poems until my fingers fall off." His eyes grow wide.

Bender turns in his seat, concerned, pointing at Brian. "They make you do that?"

"Do you think I took that language for my health?!"

Bender licks his lips. "With you, I wouldn't be surprised."

Andy nudges Brian's leg. "Just live a little dude."

With that, Claire puts the top down, her and Bender exchanging small grins.

"To Quincy!" Bender shouts into the wind.

Ally throws her arms up, and they all laugh.


	32. And Some I Just Consider

Two hours later, Bender makes a cross on his chest as Claire circles the roundabout driveway in front of a large, white house.

"Jesus Christ," Bender says, looking to Claire. "This is your uncle's house?"

Brian whistles up at the house. Claire nods and parks her car behind a black Camaro. Bender frowns. "Is that your uncle's car? I thought you said he wasn't home."

Claire shakes her head and smirks at Bender. "It's my aunt's."

Bender's mouth drops and he quickly takes off his seat belt, wandering over to look at the car. Andy hops over the side of Claire's car, not bothering to put Bender's seat down, and goes over to stare in awe too. Brian, trying to act cool, hops from the car, nearly tripping as he does, and Claire laughs, covering her mouth and turning away from him. He blushes and gives her a smile, going over to Ally and helping her from the car. Claire puts the top up and shuts the car off, getting out.

"My uncle and aunt will kill me if they ever find out I brought friends over without permission," Claire says, and they all look over at her. "I can pretend I was here alone no problem, so just don't move anything and do <i>not</i>-" Claire shoots a look at Bender- "touch any alcohol. If you do, so help me God you will walk home."

They all nod and follow Claire up the porch. She unlocks the front door and swings it open wide, letting them all pile in ahead of her. Bender stares in awe around the house, glancing up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Is your house this big, Claire?" Brian asks, looking at Claire.

She laughs and shakes her head. "I wish," she says, tossing her purse on the coffee table by the door.

Ally lifts her bag over her head and sets it next to Claire's, wandering off into the kitchen. Andy runs down and jumps onto one of the white couches in the sitting room, throwing his arms behind his head. Brian follows and stands in front of the fireplace, pretending to smoke a pipe and act rich. Claire watches them and laughs, not noticing Bender sneak away to the staircase.

The second floor, as expected, is huge. Bender can hear Andy and Brian talking loudly as he pops his head in every room. Finally he finds the master bedroom and goes inside, stretching. He looks around and goes into the connected bathroom, smirking when he sees the tub.

"Imagine how many blonde babes I could fit into this thing," Bender says to himself.

"Too bad I'm not blonde, huh?"

Bender whips around to find Claire leaning against the door frame, an eyebrow raised. Bender points at her.

"Yeah, and your tits aren't big like I imagine theirs as, either."

Claire crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. "What are you doing up here, Bender?"

Bender shrugs one shoulder. "I was just looking around." He sees the frown on Claire's face and rolls his eyes. "I ain't about to steal something, if that's what you're thinking."

Bender pushes by Claire and goes out into the bedroom, walking to the large windows on the other side of the room. He pulls the curtains open and stares out. "Some view," he says.

Claire lounges back on the bed, propping herself up with one arm. "I used to love coming here as a kid. It seemed so big then."

"Seemed?" Bender looks at her, incredulous. "If this place doesn't seem big to you, I fear for your husband in the future."

"I liked to pretend it was a castle," Claire continues, ignoring him, as she looks up at the ceiling, her eyes dreamy with memories. "And that I was the queen. I would run around in the tiara my mom bought me, waving one of my plastic wands around. My aunt would hate it and always scolded me about running, always reminding me that ladies never run."

"She sounds like a hoot with kids," Bender rolls his eyes, wandering over to the vanity. He picks up some perfumes and smells them, cringing as the scents hit his nose.

"She can't have any."

"Huh?" Bender asks, turning around to stare at Claire.

"Kids. My aunt, she can't have any."

Bender feels his shoulders droop. "Oh. Sorry to hear that."

"She always said she didn't want any. But then when she learned she couldn't..."

"So what? Does she just stay cooped up here with your uncle all day?"

Claire nods. "Mostly, yeah."

"Why doesn't she adopt?" Bender asks.

Claire shrugs her shoulder. "I've always wondered that myself. She never says why she doesn't, though. I think she likes to keep up the facade of not wanting any, for my uncle. He doesn't want any, either. He said he's gonna leave all their wealth to me and my cousins."

Bender wanders over to the bed and notices something sticking out from underneath, leaning over to retrieve it. It's a blue photo album. He raises it to Claire, who shrugs. Bender climbs up onto the bed and opens the album, flipping through the photos.

"These all your family?" he asks Claire, glancing over at her.

Claire nods. "We don't interact a lot, though."

Bender snorts. "Rich people problems."

"What about you?" Claire demands, then softens. "What about your family?"

"What about them?" Bender asks, flipping a page.

"C'mon, anyone other than your mom and dad?"

Bender shrugs. "I don't know, my parents and I don't really sit and have light chats like you and yours probably do." Bender points to a picture, a slight grin coming across his face. "Is that you?"

Claire leans over and looks down, her eyes going wide. "Bender, no!"

Bender jumps up from the bed, staring down at the album as he moves away from Claire's reach.

"Claire Standish used to have <i>braces</i>?!" Bender exclaims. "Oh man, this is too good." He shakes his head, laughing.

"Bender, please!" Claire squeals, getting up from the bed. "Don't tell anyone. I've tried so hard for everyone to forget that!"

Bender thumbs through more of the pages. "You're in here more than anyone else," he comments, looking up at Claire.

She shrugs one shoulder. "My parents and I are the only people who really visit these two. My aunt can be kinda cold, so the others don't like to." Claire flops back down on the bed, smoothing out her skirt.

"When was this from?" Bender brings the album over to Claire and points. She peers down at it.

"Tenth grade class photos."

"There's two copies here."

Claire shrugs. "So?"

"So do you think your aunt would notice one missing?" Bender sets the album down on the bed and slides one of the copies out, holding it up and staring at it. Claire makes a low whining noise in her throat.

"What do you want with that?" Claire asks, watching as Bender pulls his wallet out. He pulls out a photo of Stacey and puts it in his pocket, sliding Claire's photo in it's place.

Claire stares at Bender and he catches her eye, putting his wallet back. "What?" he asks defensively.

"So does that mean you consider me?" Claire asks jokingly, taking the album back and closing it, sliding it back under the bed. When Claire stands up she jumps back, Bender right in her face.

"You're lucky I consider you at all," Bender says with a smile. He wraps an arm around Claire's waist and pulls her to him, kissing her on the lips.


	33. Can I Ask You A Question?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! More chapters coming in a few days :)

The backyard is just as grand as the rest of the house. A perfectly green, manicured lawn lays in front of Brian, an inground pool laying smack-dab in the center. Brian lounges on one of the white chairs by the pool, watching Ally and Andy exploring the garden further back in the yard. Brian takes a sip of his water and turns when he hears Claire and Bender come outside, both laughing together and watching as Claire jogs over to Ally, pointing out the different flowers to her. Bender seats himself next to Brian and lays back in the chair, closing his eyes.

Brian licks his lips and presses them together, staying quiet for a minute. Finally he looks at Bender, squinting in the sun. "Can I ask you something?" he says.

"No," Bender answers automatically.

Brian opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, turning back to face the pool. Bender sighs, shaking his head.

"Learn to lighten up," Bender says as he sits up, snatching Brian's water bottle from his hands and taking a sip.

Brian points his thumb in the direction of the house. "You know there's one of those for-" he catches Bender's eye. "Never mind." Brian sighs. "It's about Curtis."

Bender stops mid-sip, lowering the water bottle. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points at Brian. "Choose your words carefully," Bender warns.

Brian shakes his head. "No. No, I just mean, what will he do if I honestly don't put his name on this science project?"

Bender gives a light laugh. "Probably beat the shit out of you, if we're being honest."

Brian swallows the lump in his throat. "Oh," he says, his voice cracking.

"Curtis is an idiot, alright? But he needs help. Just do me this solid."

"Well who's gonna do me a solid when I need something?" Brian snaps. Bender stares at him and Brian looks straight ahead again.

"Yeah? Alright, what is it you want?"

Brian shrugs one shoulder. "I just want to be left alone, alright? For the rest of the year."

Bender nods. "Yeah, okay. You help Curtis and I'll make sure that happens. Deal?"

Brian looks at him, smiling a little and nodding his head. "Yeah. Deal."

They both are quiet for a bit then, watching the others, before Brian speaks up again. "How did you guys become friends?"

Bender laughs. "I fought them."

Brian laughs too. "Not uh." He looks at Bender, who is staring at him. Brian gets serious. "Wait, seriously? What happened?"

Bender hands Brian back his water bottle back, laying back on the chair and folding his hands behind his head, crossing his ankles. "I moved here in eighth grade. Second day here I was walking home alone and they swarmed me, shoving me and demanding to fight, saying it was initiation for all the new kids."

"They jumped you?" Brian asks, alarmed.

"They tried to. Johnny threw the first punch, I sidestepped him and pummeled him to the ground. When I stood up, Curtis looked me over and told me I was in. Never left their side since."

Brian nods. "I, uh," he smiles a bit. "I remember you. You were in sixth period with me that year."

Bender opens one eye. "No shit, really?"

"Uh huh. Mr. Dion's class. You sat in the back and used to throw spitballs in my hair."

Bender busts up laughing. "Sounds like something I would do." He gets serious and shakes his head. "Man, that was so long ago. What I wouldn't do to go back to those times."

"Where'd you move from?" Brian asks, taking a sip of his water.

"Chicago," Bender replies.


	34. Sure

Andy appears next to Bender and lifts his shirt over his head. "I'm from Ohio," Andy says.

Bender squints up at him. "Yeah? Everyone there got pecks like you do?" Bender jokes.

Ally and Claire appear behind Brian, plopping down into the seat with him. Andy shrugs, smiling.

"When did you move here, Andy? I've always remembered you," Claire says.

"I was six," Andy says, swiping at his nose with his thumb. "My dad, man..." Andy gets serious, swinging his arms so his hands clap together in front of him. "He graduated from Ohio State, that's his Alma mater, you know? And he's pushing me to go there." Andy shakes his head.

"Where do you want to go?" Ally asks quietly.

"California," Andy says. "I want to go out there and wrestle. Be away from here, from it all." He motions to the backyard. "You know?"

"Yeah," Brian pipes up. They all glance at him, and he coughs to clear his throat. "I'm uh, probably going to one of the colleges around here though. If I left the state, my parents would throw a fit."

"So?" Bender asks, a bit harshly.

Brian shrugs. "So it means I can't leave."

Bender points a finger at him. "Yes you can. They don't control you. You're a smart kid, Brian, go wherever you damn well please and don't look back."

Brian looks down at the water bottle in his hands and smiles to himself.

"I applied to go to California," Andy blurts out. Everyone looks up at him, a bit startled. "I didn't tell my old man. I applied for a full scholarship. The state championships are this weekend. A scout is coming out. If I place, I might get in."

Andy smiles as if a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders. Everyone congratulates him, wishing him luck. Bender stands, pretending to go in for a hug but instead shoving Andy to the side, watching him splash into the pool. Brian and Claire laugh, watching as he resurfaces, trying to splash Bender. Claire stands and bites her lip, then pulls her top off and wiggles her skirt down, standing in her bra and underwear. Bender stares, his eyes wide, and Brian turns away.

"This is highly inappropriate!" Brian calls. He receives no answer. Instead, Claire cannonballs into the pool, shouting when she hits the cold water.

Bender pulls his clothes off until he's standing in his underwear, then grins down at Brian. Brian's eyes go wide and he stands, holding his hands up in defense.

"No. Bender, no! I'm wearing a watch and, and if these clothes get wet I have nothing else to change into-"

Bender wraps his arms around Brian's waist, holding him still as Andy climbs from the pool, pulling Brian's shoes and socks off, then his watch. Brian cries out as Bender lifts him up and tosses him into the pool, watching him sink down. Bender and Andy jump in together and Claire shrieks as she's sprayed with water. Ally stands and quietly says she's going to the bathroom, heading inside. No one notices the sad look she gives Andy.


	35. Do You Slip Her The Hot...Beef...Injection?

The fire cackles in the quiet night, smoke curling up into the dark sky. Ally sits curled up in one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped around herself. Brian sits in a chair to her right, staring into the fire. Directly next to him is Bender, laying out on a blanket, arms crossed behind his head.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Bender asks quietly, pulling Brian from his thoughts.

Brian looks over at him. "Hmm?" He glances up. "Oh, the stars? Yeah, they are," he says, lounging back. He names a few of the them to Bender, who looks over at him when he's done.

Bender frowns. "Who taught you that?" he asks.

Brian shrugs. "Myself," he says sheepishly, and Bender grins.

"Yeah? That's pretty cool."

It's quiet again for a few more minutes until Brian speaks up. "Does it scare you?" he asks.

"That your brain retains everything and mine doesn't? No," Bender says.

Brian laughs, then turns serious. "No, I mean, everything up there. Does it scare you?"

Bender swallows. "Yes," he says.

Brian looks over at Ally. "What about you? Does what's out there scare you?"

Ally looks over at Brian. "Everything scares me," she whispers.

The sliding glass door opens and Brian jumps, watching as Claire and Andy come out holding drinks.

Bender sits up quickly. "Please tell me you spiked those," he pleads to Andy, who shakes his head.

Bender sighs and throws his hands up. "Typical," he says as Claire hands a glass down to him.

"Non-alcoholic," she says. "Deal with it."

"I will, but I'm not happy about it," Bender says. "The one day I forget my flask..." he mutters to himself as Claire hands a drink to Brian and sits down in the seat next to Bender.

Andy gives a drink to Ally and plops down in the seat next to her, setting his arm on the top of her chair. She smiles down at her drink as Brian clears his throat loudly, all of them looking over at him. He stands up and shoves his free hand in his pocket, looking around at them all before holding his drink up.

"I'd, uh, I'd like to make a toast," he says, earning a snicker from Bender.

Claire leans down and slaps Bender on the chest with the back of her hand, mouthing at him to shut up. She smiles up at Brian. "Go ahead, Brian," she says.

"Uh, well, uh." He clears his throat again. "It's funny to me because two weeks ago we were all in detention together, and I knew nothing about any of you even though I've been in school with you guys most of my life. And now here we are two weeks later and I've spent my first day skipping school without a doctor's note with you guys. You guys who told me we wouldn't be friends after that Saturday." He looks at Claire as he says this and she looks down quickly. "And uh, even if we aren't considered friends to any of you, I uh, still consider you all friends to me." He's quiet, then adds loudly, "To the Breakfast Club."

"No," Allison says, and they all look over at her, Brian with a frown. She holds her glass up, smiling. "To the Brat Pack," she says, and they all grin and yell "cheers!", downing their drinks.

* * *

Bender, Brian, Ally, and Andy all wait around by the door as Claire finishes cleaning up the kitchen. Bender leans against one of the big windows overlooking the driveway, his head on the glass as he stares out, lost in thought. Brian stands with his arms crossed as he surveys one of the paintings on the wall. Andy stands with his forehead pressed to Ally's, talking quietly to her as she continues to laugh and bite her lip, looking down.

Claire switches out the light in the kitchen and comes in, smiling. "Everything seems to be in place. Anyone need to use the powder room before we leave?" she asks.

They all shake their heads and Claire nods, picking up her purse and handing Ally her bag. Ally slips it over her head and wanders outside, holding Andy's hand and dragging him along behind her. Brian smiles at Claire as he slips by. Bender stands behind Claire and she turns around, looking up at him. He leans close to her face and she flinches, holding her breath as he squints his eyes and studies her.

"There's something on your face," he says and she squeaks, putting her hand on her cheek.

"What? Where!" she cries.

He leans forward and kisses her lightly before pulling back with a smirk.

"Me," he says, and she punches his arm playfully.

He goes outside and Claire turns off the light, locking up the house behind her. She heads over to her car and unlocks the doors, pushing the seats forward. Ally climbs in first and Andy sits in the middle, Brian on his right. Bender sits in the passenger's seat and Claire gets in and starts the car, putting the radio on low as she pulls away from the house and starts their drive back to Shermer.

* * *

 "What do you think our parents are going to do to us?" Brian asks after a few minutes of silence as Claire heads for the highway.

"Probably ground me again," Claire mutters. "I was supposed to get off punishment on Friday but now most likely not."

"I'll have to do all physical work around the house for a month. Plus get grounded on top of that," Andy says and Ally rubs his arm.

"I'll be sat in the living room and my father will give a speech about responsibilities, disrespecting the family, and the statistics of kids my age is jail. Then I'll have to give a lengthy apology once he's done to him and my mom, and then he'll ask if he wants my sister to follow my example and I'll say no. Then he'll give me all his books full of Latin poems and tell me to choose at least fifty to translate each one twice, and he reads _every single one of them_ and if it's wrong, I have to do that poem over again three times," Brian says.

Andy and Ally stare at him with their mouths open. Bender huffs in the front seat. "Yeah? You're all lucky. I'd much rather translate Latin poems and I don't even speak a lick of the language."

"What will your dad do?" Ally asks quietly.

"Beat the shit out of me, probably."

"Oh, John," Claire says sorrowfully.

"Shut up. I ain't asking for no sympathy," he snaps.

"What will your parents do?" Andy asks, looking at Ally.

Her eyes fill with tears. "The same thing thing they always do. Not notice."

* * *

 Claire pulls up in front of Brian's house first. The entire place is lit up from top to bottom. Bender climbs out and pulls up the seat, helping Brian out. He claps Brian on the shoulder and Brian nods at him.

"Thanks," he says, and Bender solutes him.

Brian takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets, starting up the walk. The front door flies open and a man and woman come running outside as Bender quickly gets back in the car and Claire pulls away.

"Should we go back?" Claire asks, looking at Bender. He looks at her like she's crazy.

"Are you nuts?! What good will that do? They'll probably have us arrested!" he yells.

"Arrested for what?" Andy asks defensively, leaning forward.

Bender turns back to stare at him. "I don't know. Probably kidnapping or some shit. They're probably loopy in the head. I wonder what meds his old lady is on."

"Don't talk about Brian's mom like that, you don't know her," Ally snaps and he turns back around after staring at her for a minute, huffing and crossing his arms.

"I'm just saying," he says, flipping his hair from his face.

"So who wants dropped off next? Andy?" Claire asks, glancing at him in the rear-view mirror.

Andy shakes his head. "Nah. Actually I'm uh, going to Ally's house with her."

Andy tugs on the collar of his shirt and Bender turns around to stare at him with wide eyes. Ally bites her lip and looks down, smiling. While Ally is giving directions to her house, Bender points from Andy to Ally, then makes a circle with his thumb and index finger in his left hand, putting the index finger of his right hand through it.

Andy punches him in the arm angrily and Bender flinches. "Knock it off," Andy snaps.

Bender's face gets red and Claire slams on the brakes, turning around to look at them all. "Stop it, both of you, or I mean it you'll get out and walk home." She glances between them before turning around and stepping on the gas.

Bender turns around and punches the dashboard, fuming. "Can none of you goddamn idiots take a joke?" he snaps.

Claire pulls up in front of Ally's house and parks, getting out and pushing down the seat before helping Ally and Andy out. Ally thanks her and Andy stares back in the car at Bender, then follows Ally through the gate and up the walk to her house.

Claire gets back in the car and pulls away, glancing over at Bender, who is slumped down in his seat.

"How do I get to your house?" she asks and Bender shrugs. Claire sighs. "Bender."

"I don't know," he says, staring out the window.

"You don't know how to get to your own house?"

"No."

"Bender!" Claire says then groans, pulling over and putting the car in park, turning in her seat to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong," she demands, and he turns his head, hurt filling his eyes, then rage.

"Forget it. Just forget it, alright?" he snaps and opens the door, climbing out and slamming it shut, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking quickly down the sidewalk.

Claire leans over and rolls down the passenger window before stepping on the gas to catch up with him. "Bender!" she cries, but he ignores her. "Bender, get back in the car!" Bender continues walking. "Bender, we don't have to talk, alright? Just let me take you home."

Bender starts across the street and Claire slaps her hand on the steering wheel before speeding up. "Forget you! Jerk!" she shouts at him as she drives by, leaving him behind in the dark.


	36. The Next Screw That Falls Out Is Gonna Be You

Allison is standing on her front porch with Andy, digging around in her bag for her keys, when suddenly she hears Claire yelling. She turns and squints into the dark, watching Claire's car edge along the road before finally taking off. She looks at Andy, concerned, and he shrugs, then squints into the dark. He spots Bender walking along in the dark and runs off the porch, Ally hurrying after him.

"Bender!" Andy calls, coming up behind him. "Hey, Bender, wait up!"

Bender turns around and snarls. Ally stops a few feet behind Andy, watching as Bender swipes a few stray tears off his cheeks.

"What?" Bender snaps. "What the fuck do you want?"

Andy frowns. "Hey, c'mon man, tell me what's up." Andy reaches for Bender but Bender jerks his arm back.

"Don't!" Bender yells, his breathing harsh.

Ally steps a bit closer, looking around the dark street and then at Bender. "Do you want to come inside?" she asks.

Bender considers her for a moment, considers yelling at her and considers hitting her Prince Charming in the face. But his anger deflates and he slouches, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and nodding. "Yeah," he says. "I guess so."

* * *

 Back on the porch, Ally has given up looking for her own keys, instead crouching down and grabbing up the garden gnome by her feet. She peels off the key stuck to its bottom and unlocks the door, pushing it open and replacing the key and gnome.

Bender and Andy follow her inside, both looking around the living room. The house is dark and quiet and smells of cigarette smoke. Ally dumps her bag on the bench by the door and they follow her into the kitchen. She flips the light on and Bender slumps against the wall, crossing his arms and turning his head away from Andy.

Ally fills the teapot and puts it on the stove, grabbing three mugs from one cabinet and a jar of hot chocolate mix from another. When the water boils she shuts it off instantly, wincing and hoping for her parents not to wake up. She fills the mugs and let the guys each pick one, taking her own and motioning for them to follow her. She flips the light back off and unlocks the backdoor, holding it open. Bender and Andy walk by her and she quietly closes the screen door, heading out behind them.

Andy sits on the porch swing and Bender drops down on one of the wooden steps, Ally looking between them and deciding to just stand by the door, watching the stars high above the house. Finally, Andy speaks up.

"How bad is it gonna be, Bender?" he asks lightly.

Bender takes a sip of his hot chocolate and turns to look at Ally. "This is good shit. You should give me your recipe," he says.

"Cut the act, Bender," Andy says a bit harshly, and Bender finally looks at him. Andy's face softens. "That's what it is, isn't it? Your dad?"

Bender licks his lips and stares down at the mug in his hands. "What's it to you?" he mutters. Then he slams the mug down on the steps next to him and stands, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks out into the yard. He picks up a rock and tosses it with all his might, watching it fly into the dark and disappear. He walks around the small back yard, bumping into a few stray things he can't see along the way. He rounds the yard and finally makes it back to the porch, propping his foot on the bottom step.

"Yeah, okay? It's my dad," Bender snaps at Andy. "What are you gonna do, Boy Wonder? Swoop in and save the day for me? That's not how it works."

Andy shakes his head and looks away for a minute, then back at Bender. "You don't have to take it out on us, you know," he says. "Or on Claire."

"Shut your mouth about Claire," Bender snaps, pointing a finger at Andy.

Andy shrugs. "I'm just saying."

"Yeah? Well don't." Bender makes a frustrated noise before running a hand through his hair and kicking the railing. "Fuck!" he yells.

"Bender," Andy begins.

"Just drop it!" Bender yells before storming off into the yard. He drops down by the only tree in the back and runs a hand through his hair again, pulling his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth.

Andy sighs and looks at Ally, motioning out towards Bender, and Ally just shakes her head.

* * *

 Some time later, Ally takes Bender's still full mug and her and Andy's empty mugs inside. She dumps Bender's hot chocolate down the drain, turning on the sink and sighing as she grabs up a sponge. Andy comes in a second later and grabs a dish towel, drying the mugs off when Ally's done washing them. They hear something rattling the fence and Andy throws the towel down on the counter, hurrying out back and ready to strike. Ally looks at him worriedly when he comes back in, Andy shaking his head.

"Bender's gone," he says.

They both freeze when they hear movement above their heads and Ally grabs Andy's arm, pushing him towards the back door.

"It's my dad," she says in a panicked whisper. "Hide next to the porch and wait a few minutes, then jump the fence." Andy nods and steals a quick kiss that surprises Ally, hurrying outside.

Ally locks the door behind him and quickly dashes into the living room, ducking behind one of the couches and putting her hand over her mouth to keep her breathing quiet. She hears her father cursing as he hurries down the steps and opens the front door, searching for whatever caused the noise from outside. When he finds nothing, he shuts the door.

It's quiet for a minute and then suddenly Ally is crying out, her father grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up. He shoves her bag into her arms and pushes her up the steps, shoving her into her bedroom.

"You are in so much trouble tomorrow, young lady," he growls in her ear, slamming her bedroom door.


	37. Stupid, Worthless, No Good, God Damned, Freeloading, Son Of A Bitch

Early Wednesday morning, April 11, 1984. The Bender Household, Shermer, Illinois.

The first time Bender ran away was three hours after his family had moved from Chicago. It had been a windy day; he snuck out his bedroom window in a jean jacket and took off. His hair was longer then.

He hugged himself tightly as he walked, keeping his head down. The wind stung where it connected with his skin. Something along the sidewalk caught his eye and as he neared it he realized it was a five dollar bill, half-buried beneath some leaves. He grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket, continuing on.

He stopped at the first diner he came across and went inside, teeth chattering. He approached a waitress behind the counter and asked her for a cup of hot chocolate, setting the bill in front of her. She looked at him sadly and made him a cup, telling him to keep the change. Then she hurried to the back and used the payphone to dial the police.

They turned up when Bender was halfway through with his drink, an officer sitting on either side of him. They questioned him with friendly smiles but he stayed quiet, his father's words echoing in his head – <i>never trust the police.</i>

When he finished, Bender quietly confessed to them he didn't know his address. One of officers put a few bills on the counter and they led him out to their car, putting him in the back. They drove around for half an hour, Bender pointing out some of the different places he passed. Eventually they found his neighborhood and then his street. When they did, Bender began to cry in the back.

One officer stayed in the car with Bender while the other went to speak to his father. Dale Bender calmly, and with a smile, explained that his son was simply upset about having to move and apologized for any inconvenience he had caused. That smile stayed plastered on his face until the officers were gone. When they were, Dale marched his son out back and picked up a decent sized tree branch, taking Bender inside and beating him with it. Dale told Bender that if the cops ever showed up like that again, it'd be to take his dead body to the morgue.

Later that night, after Bender had finished crying, he took the screen out of his window in case he ever had to make a quick getaway. The following week he would cut his hair and use the five dollar bill to buy two packs of cigarettes off some kid; it was the first time he ever smoked.

* * *

Bender stares over at the window, the five year old memory still fresh in his mind. He reaches down and grabs up the watch next to his bed, groaning when he sees there's not enough time to go back to sleep. He drops the watch and plops back down onto his pillows, pulling his blankets up to his chin and curling up underneath them. He stays like that for a few minutes, watching the sun begin to rise outside, before he tosses the blankets off with a huff. He shivers as he sits up, his room filled with chilly morning air, and heads over to the closet, picking up some clothes from the floor and sniffing them to see if they're clean. He makes a mental note to do laundry soon as he crawls across his bed and into his en suite, or as Craig likes to call it, his "en shit."

* * *

 Bender steps out of his boxers and into the hot water of the shower, sighing despite himself. The bathroom is small and certainly nothing to brag about; one toilet, one sink, one cracked mirror above said sink, a tiny shower stall built into the corner, one small towel rack, and no windows with a dim, flickering light to boot. It's shit but Bender guesses that's what he deserves – shit for being a piece of shit.

Bender quickly washes his hair and body and gets out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He goes over to the sink and stares at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes. He pulls the mirror open to reveal a medicine cabinet, grabbing a dull razor and some shaving cream. He shaves his face and finishes toweling off, looking himself over in the mirror before he pulls his clothes on and heads for the kitchen.

Bender stops when he sees his mother cooking at the stove and takes a deep breath, forcing a smile as he walks into the room. "Morning, Ma," he says, making her jump.

She turns around and watches him silently, her brown bangs falling in her dark eyes. Bender clears his throat and heads to the fridge, pulling out the carton of orange juice, his mother's eyes following him the entire time. A loud bang makes them both jump as Dale Bender emerges from the other bedroom, a cigar hanging between his lips. His eyes train on Bender, who swallows the lump in his throat and closes the fridge, his hands shaking.

Karen Bender makes a squeaking noise and turns back to the stove, paying attention to her burning pancakes. Dale walks up to his son and snatches the carton from his hands, slamming it down on the counter. He blows smoke into his son's face and crosses his arms, licking his large lips.

"The fuck you been, boy?" his father asks, his voice low, dangerous.

Bender swallows again and searches his father's face. He can't lie. The man isn't an idiot, and he's always one step ahead of Bender. Bender knows it already: he's fucked.

"You hear me? I said where you been?" Dale snaps, his wife quickly handing him a glass. He shoots her a look and pours out the orange juice, more slopping over the side of the cup than in it.

"Quincy," Bender says, his mouth getting dry. He clears his throat again. "I went to Quincy."

Dale drops onto one of the bar stools, taking another drag of his cigar. He seems too big to fit on it; Bender has been waiting for the day one snaps underneath his fat ass.

"What were you doing in Quincy?" his father asks.

<i>Lie,</i> Bender thinks. <i>Lie. It's the only chance you've got.</i>

"I went to a party."

His father takes another drag, then a sip of his juice, smacking his lips. "I never been to no party that starts at eight o'clock in the fucking morning, Johnny boy."

Bender licks his lips and shrugs. "It's a two hour ride," he says, regretting it when his father looks at him. "We went, we hung out, we partied. Some big fucking house belonging to some bitch. Her rich folks were outta town, she let us hit it up."

Another drag. "Yeah? Who'd you go with?" his father asks.

"Some kids I met at the store. They lent me a lighter, invited me with them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The next thing Bender knows, he's being cracked across the face by his father. "Don't you fucking lie to me, boy!" his father yells in his face.

Bender rubs his cheek and looks at his father, his breathing picking up from anger.

"I ain't lying! The fuck I gotta lie for, huh?"

"Watch it, boy. You're in deep enough shit as it is." His father points to the phone. "I got a call from the school at work saying you never showed up. Bunch of pricks talking to me like I don't know how to raise my kid, telling me you got detention now because of this, like I don't get it."

Bender swallows again and stares at his father, unsure what to say. An apology will get his ass beat. So will not saying anything at all. Bender opens his mouth to respond when his father narrows his eyes, turning Bender's head and grabbing at his ear, pulling it.

"What is that in your ear?" he asks, letting go and staring at Bender.

Bender's hand drifts up and touches the earring Claire gave him. Shit.

He shrugs and his father's face turns red. "You some fag now, huh?" he asks, grabbing at the collar of Bender's shirt and yanking him close. "You some fag now!" he yells.

"No, Dad, I'm not!" Bender yells back, but he knows it's too late.

"I won't tolerate that shit, do you hear me boy? I won't tolerate no gay shit going on in this house or I swear to God I'll pound your ass."

"I bet the little fag gets it pounded every night, anyway," his mother jokes.

Bender's father turns his head, very slowly, to look at his wife. He lets Bender go and Bender backs up against the fridge, his heart beating a million miles an hour. They all stare at one another before his father throws his hand out and cracks his mother across the face, sending her stumbling back a couple steps.

"Who the fuck asked you, bitch?!" his father snarls, and Bender knows his chance is now or never.

He dashes across the kitchen and into his bedroom, shutting the door and sticking a chair underneath the handle. He pulls his boots on as fast as he can, struggling to get his jackets on. He can hear his father still screaming in the kitchen and his mother crying as he shoves open the window and climbs through it, taking off down the street just like he did four years ago. As he runs, his hand drifts up to touch the earring Claire gave him.

And he realizes he misses her now more than ever.


	38. Is This The First Time Or The Last Time We Do This?

"We must have pushed him too hard."

"Evelyn, please. You know we did no such a thing."

"Then why did he _run away_ , Jackson? Clearly we must have upset him. And what about those other kids in the car with him? Who knows what they could have coerced him to do? First he runs away and then he's...then he's having sex before marriage!"

"Evelyn, for God's sake, pull yourself together!"

"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I'm so sorry!"

A sigh. "No, it's okay, so am I. I know you're worried about our Brian."

Some sniffling. "Once at book club, Mary - oh you remember Mary, don't you? She brought us this book from the library about parenting troubled teens, and it said all kids go through a rebellious stage. Do you think that's what this is?"

Another sigh. "I'm not sure."

"Do you think he hates us?"

"What? No, of course not! You need to calm down. Here, sit, drink your tea."

It's quiet for another minute, then Brian's father speaks again. "I blame myself, really."

Outside the double doors leading to the den, Brian sighs and heads back into the dining room, sitting and swishing his mushy cereal around in his bowel. His sister Jenny stares at him, scooping Cheerios into her mouth and chewing loudly.

"Where were you last night?" Jenny asks after she's swallowed. Brian shakes his head and picks up his napkin, wiping milk off her chin.

"Nowhere, Jenny, okay?"

"You made Momma cry yesterday," Jenny says as she kicks her feet back and forth under the table. Brian drops his head a bit and groans before he sits back up.

"I'm going through my rebellious stage, okay?"

"What's that?" Jenny asks.

Brian shakes his head as he tries to think up a good enough answer. "It means I'm turning into a hoodlum," Brian finally says and Jenny gasps.

"Momma's not gonna be happy about that, no siree," she says, shaking her head too.

Brian rolls his eyes. "I know she's not," he says, swishing around his cereal again.

They're both quiet before Jenny pipes up again. "Can I go through my rebellious stage, too?" she asks and Brian scoffs.

"What? Of course not. You're not old enough. Now eat your cereal," Brian says, swallowing hard when his father emerges from the den and comes into the dining room, hair tousled as if he's run his hand through it one too many times.

Jenny smiles at him. "Brian is a hoodlum," she says and Brian slides down in his seat with a groan.


End file.
